Oh to see the Beauty...

I’ve been awash in grief, especially this past week. The trouble with grief is that it’s an ocean and when the seawall comes down, all grieve floods me. Suddenly, I’m grieving my mom again who passed in 2001, and others, and other pets. 

There is place for tears. There is also a place for love. 

Love can make me cry. And it also makes me smile.

When I’ve been sad about our dog Lily passing, I try to recall her doing what she loved most. I imagine her running on the beach. I see her with our 100 pound male lab Buddy. Both bound through waves retrieving balls and sticks. The two labs never overlapped on earth. But in my mind, they’ve got eternity to play. 

Buddy loved retrieving tennis balls. For years, after he passed, we’d try to get Lily to chase balls and she did so reluctantly. Then one summer day, walking on the beach, we didn’t have a ball and Dan picked up a piece of driftwood, a stick, and tossed it into oncoming waves. Years of trying to make a tennis ball look enticing to an uninterested Lily washed away with our gal bounding through waves for the stick. 

Again and again, Dan threw the stick and Lily charged whole-heartedly into the water.

“What’s your stick?” took on new meaning with Lily. What is it that you’ll crash through cold water and incoming waves for? Search with intense focus? Swim ‘till you’re out of breath? Seize with confidence and then paddle for shore to celebrate?

It’s a question that may have one answer. It may have different answers over the years of our lives. 

I get knocked over by grief. It’s a super big wave that takes me out. 

And I know I love Beauty. It’s my stick. 

Grace moments—sunshine through clouds, a flower about to bloom, our new puppy nuzzling me, asking me to take him on a walk are oxygen when I’m submerged.

Grace is oxygen for my soul.

Did I tell you? When Lily got sick in September, I called the vet who was her breeder and told him the news. He had an older puppy who hadn’t gone to the home he was assigned to for an odd set of reasons. And did we want the pup? 

Yes.

He arrived. And Lily, I am certain, came back from the edge and lived an extra four months. Watching her with the puppy was like being at a concert and the musician kept coming out and playing encores. Lily made it through Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. We knew it was bonus time. 

We knew to savor and celebrate. And we were thankful. 

Here I am thinking, isn’t everyday bonus time? 

And how can I be awake enough to savor and celebrate? 

Even when there’s great loss, may I know there’s great love.

Oh to see the Beauty.

With love,

Kat~

To hear “Oh to see the Beauty,” on YouTube, please click here.

Listen to MissyAnn singing “Oh to see the Beauty,” click here.