Joining in with Five Minute Friday. This week’s word: Rise.
It’s hard to get back up when you’ve been beaten down, when you’re isolated and alone, when you feel lost. When you can’t see a clear path ahead of you and you feel there’s no solid ground anywhere, nothing familiar or firm. When everything sacred to you has been desecrated.
But just because it’s hard doesn’t mean it’s impossible. And nothing worth doing was ever easy. And Impossible is Nothing. [Apply a whole load of other platitudes when applicable/necessary, to help you see the light, to help you get through].
You’ll slowly recoup, regroup, you’ll slowly feel lighter, feel able. You’ll gain momentum in your recovery as you re-learn old habits, old patterns that stabilised you, that made you happy. (You’ll remember what happiness is, and the strangeness of it will take you by surprise at first but then you’ll actively start to cultivate it again, a garden of laughter, of small precious moments, of cuddles and confidence and openness and light, surrounded by hedges of love, a love so deep you’ll realise it’s impenetrable, unbreakable, now, this garden you and your children share, impenetrable to hate, to mockery, to brainwashing, to all things no, to anything and everything no).
You’ll walk through this garden, you and your children, knowing its a safe place. A safe place where you cultivate harmony through respect and compassion and tolerance. It’s a place where you’re privileged to see your children rising again, overcoming all the upset, all the – what we’ll just call ‘no’ for now – overcoming all those things they’ve seen, experienced, witnessed, that should never have entered their sacred space, their childhood.
You’re a gardener, you tend their hearts, their wishes, their discoveries. You listen to their dreams, their fears, their stories, mostly funny, always shared with love. You take every one of their confidences, precious as they are, and you guard them. Seeds of hope, a symbol of so much.
You’re their world. Now more than ever before.
This, this responsibility, this journey of love, this is what makes it possible to overcome. The need to build hedges of love, so high they’re impenetrable, so high nothing can get through, this is what gets you out of bed every day. What sees you through doing this alone, far from home. Gives you the energy to rise every day, to rise up to the (multiple) challenges of the situation. To rise and say ‘No more. No more. It’s over. No more’…..
Them. My two. My loves, my all.
One so tender and unsure, the other so confident and cocksure. Both of them needing me, both of them enjoying, now, this secret place, this firm, secure place we go to, this haven, this refuge, this reducer of struggles, this enabler of life. Of pure, true, joyful life.
Rise, we rise, together. In a garden of love. Flowers sprouting here there and everywhere, now. Stretches of green grass, audible in the sun, swathes of riotous colour, waving, dancing in the wind. Beckoning, inviting, ‘Rest your heart here’ they whisper, and we do.
It’s our garden of love. Here there’s no harm.