There are these moments.
You know the ones.
The ones that bring us to our knees.
Shake us to our absolute core.
Causing us to come face-to-face
with a heart that is completely shattered.
Into millions-upon-millions of pieces.
Leaving us feeling utterly deflated.
A broken friendship.
A lost loved one.
A sudden and unexpected
loss of a career.
A shattered relationship.
Sucking the life...
...the absolute everything...
...right out from the depths of our entire being.
Do you remember when you were little? Those days when your teacher blessed you with some fresh air and an outdoor lesson. Where you found yourself secretly picking those shiny, emerald-green blades of overgrown grass. Daydreaming about what you would do after school that day.
When life was oh-so simple...
And as you were daydreaming, you found yourself in a staring contest with a field. Across the parking lot. Out of your reach.
Filled-to-capacity with weeds. Dead dandelions. Blowing in the breeze. But in the middle of the white, floating, fuzzy graveyard, your eyes draw you to the ones still filled with life.
Those precious, color-of-the-sun golden ones.
Sparingly scattered about.
And you started thinking about what you would do with those golden ones. If you just had the chance to be free. To race across the pavement and dart amidst the floating seeds, grabbing a handful, here-and-there. Maybe you'd craft together a crown. You knew how to tie the stems together.
Maybe you'd squish them flat to make some kind of colored paste or nature-made paint. Maybe you'd "pop" the "heads" off and sing your silly childhood tune.
The possibilities were simple. But they brought joy. And a smile crept across your face. As you found yourself back in the reality of the day's school lesson.
The golden ones.
Sometimes life brings us a heap of heartache. Sometimes, so much, in fact, that we feel like we can't handle anything else. Our hearts are so tattered...so torn...so broken...we can't fathom where to possibly begin picking up the pieces.
We find ourselves in a sea of weeds. The ones falling to pieces all around us. Floating around in the air we breathe. Making our eyes water. Thickening the air, making us gasp for our breaths. Urging us to go back inside. To curl up and wait until the breeze is fresh, once again.
But then...then we remember the golden ones. Those little moments. Scattered as they may be, we know that they have the ability to bring us even simple, momentary joy.
A phone call from a friend.
A home-cooked meal.
An invitation to a get-together.
A possible interview.
An unexpected gift.
A peak of sunshine through a charcoal sky.
And suddenly, we feel glimpses of hope.
Yet, more precious than we'd ever
remembered them being before.
And before we know it, we start tying those golden ones together. We make our crown. Maybe we set it on our shelf for a while. Until we are ready to wear it again. But...we know it's there.
Or maybe we squish together our paint. And begin quietly and gently crafting our masterpiece. Hanging it in private, on our own wall, until we feel the confidence and courage, to share it with the rest of the world.
Whatever we decide to do, our breakthrough only comes as we take that first step. Shaking uncontrollably. Eyes inundated with tears. Sick to our stomachs. Not sure where to move next.
And goodness knows, while those life-shattering moments might feel like an eternity, like you are standing in an ocean of desolation and despair...try to never forget the golden ones.
Those quiet, elementary twinkles of hope.
Shining strong in a tide of anguish.