Grated expectations

Yesterday was a triumph!

Growing bored with safe, flat paths which ensured me minimal pain, I opted to climb a hill. It wasn't even that difficult. I walked for a while along the mesa, fueled by the excitement of this accomplishment. Filled with gratefulness for the barely-there abdominal pain, it took a while to acknowledge the pain in my heel. A rock maybe? Once I started feeling fatigued I turned around and headed back to the trail head. As I neared the welcoming tree I spied three crows in the bare, upper branches, watching me. In unison their caws cheered out, "Yay!" I knew their enthusiasm was just for me.

What I really wanted to do this morning, I knew that I could not, as I watched my beautiful son breathing deeply in his peaceful sleep. Being here for him was most important today. There could be no better consolation prize, than to hit that trail again. I would be back before his first thought of chocolate chip pancakes awoke.

Today it was even easier to climb that hill than it was yesterday. When I came back down and embarked upon the curvy trail, there was that piercing little pain in my heel again. Several long and uncomfortable minutes passed as I reasoned with myself that the pain would subside, so I should just ignore it and keep on going. Sometimes, I'm just too stupid. I found a rock to lean against and emptied my shoe. What do you know? When I got back to the trail head I was feeling great and decided to keep going down another path.

Why is it that I always continue to forge ahead no matter what rocks are irritating me? Why do I keep walking feeling sand grating into my skin when all I need to do, is take off the damn sandals? How far can you travel or how well can you live, with a knife hanging from your broken-heart chest? I seem to be the champion who endures in spite of the storms that drench me. It's no secret to anyone who knows me, that I am no stranger to misfortune or pain. Some people call me strong because I have survived so much. There is some truth in that, but my deeper truth is that I have been hovering in an emotional purgatory where I will not be swallowed by doom, but neither will I let go of its hand.

My recent medical adventure left me unable to care for myself or my family. Laying wounded, I had to rely on people to tend to my needs. It was such a foreign concept for me- relying on anyone else, being comfortable with it, and having faith in those people to get the job done. So many people showed up to help- every one of them happy to do it, with hearts filled with love and kindness. Some of these people were barely strangers before I openly received their generosity. Before long, I started to count on it, and it felt like a new home.

Maybe the reason that I have never really had someone to count on, who would love me and take care of me the way I thought I wanted, was because I did not actually expect that it would come. Maybe I was so accustomed to pain and disappointment, that it felt like my home. I never would have imagined, prior to the surgery, that I would have been down for so long. There were extenuating circumstances and post-op complications that tried even my ability to withstand. It was only in that weakness that I realized how exhausting pain really is.

My expectations have certainly evolved over the years. I still dream in the fantastic colors of cartoons and I still want to be loved- but otherwise, the view is much changed. Every time we fall in love, our definition of love changes and every time we lose love, we are never the same. Some of my friends tell me that what I am looking for is not real. They are wrong. It is in me, so it is real. It has no face, no shape, no name and no rules, but it is truly beautiful. It is a great expectation.