I step out of the shower and stand dripping with my towel wrapped around me, looking out the bathroom window. The new day seems luminous, worth pausing for and gazing into even as my toes curl on the freezing tile floor.
The fields below the house are still covered with snow although the tops of the stone walls are finally visible. The sky seems a bit less austere, the sun more committed to its silent shining. It really doesn’t look like spring out there yet, with everything still bare and frozen, but something seems to have yielded. Something ineffable has changed. It’s as if the air itself is richer.
Something subtle has changed inside me, too. Everything external appears the same: upper-arm skin a bit saggy, belly soft, hair thinning and badly in need of a cut, the face in the mirror looking less and less like the younger person I still feel myself inside to be and more like my Grammie Stanchfield every day. (Those puckery little vertical lines above my upper lip! Where did they come from? Her.)
And yet, my heart is lighter.
A few weeks ago, I sat on the couch in my kitchen, brushing away tears, wondering how to respond to the most recent words of someone who has hurt me deeply. I thought I would write her a letter and instead what came out onto the page was a prayer. Not the words I needed to say to someone else, but the words I most needed to hear myself.
When the going gets tough may I have faith that things are unfolding as they are meant to.
It helps me to remember that there’s a bigger picture, a story being written that’s larger than the one I can see in front of my nose. And try as I might to avoid heartache, life will continue to have its way with me. To be human is to hurt, to worry, to wonder, to suffer, to stare at the ceiling at three a.m.
And yet, if there’s one more thing I know for sure, it’s this: whatever is happening in this moment is already in the process of turning into something else. Change is continual, and for that I can be either fearful or grateful. Today, I choose grateful.
Recently my friend Amy posted a quote I love on her beautiful blog My Path with Stars Bestrewn: “No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.”
Another good, necessary reminder. For as it is in nature, so it is in life. For every dark night of the soul there is a sunrise, a brightening of the inner landscape. Smiles always follow tears. Joy will find a way, if I let it, to push up and out, through the rich, dark loam of heartache. And I am here on this earth to feel everything, to experience everything — the ups and the downs, the dark and the light, the freeze and the thaw, the drama and the denoument, the whole human catastrophe.
I can hunch my shoulders and duck my head and resist what is. (And oh, I’ve been so tempted this winter to resist, to hunch, to hide.) Or, with quiet curiosity, I can simply allow the fragile pages of my days to turn. What now? What next?
Still naked at my spot at the window, I watch a sleek copper-colored fox trot delicately across the crusty snow and hop up onto a rock, surveying her domain. Against the blanket of white, her tail flicks like a flame. I’m delighted to see her; I know this animal. To discover her here this morning is a lovely validation of life and the cyclical nature of things. For the last two springs, we have watched this beautiful wild girl as she raised her litters in in our field.
Each year as the trees bud and the matted winter grasses give way to new growth, the cubs emerge from their den beneath the rock pile, ready to meet the world.
From our own home on the hill we humans spend hours observing the goings on at the neighbors’ place. The wonder of new life never ceases to amaze. We hand the binoculars back and forth, entranced by the hunting expeditions of this watchful, dedicated mother and delighted by the cavorting pups, so hesitant at first to leave the security of their broad, flat, rock roof, but soon enough venturing further afield, bent on exploration.
And, always, there is drama. Five babies become four become three. Coyotes, we suspect. The first year, the family moved from one hole in the ground to another, leaving a single kit with a broken leg behind.
All through one freezing night, we fretted about the tiny fox cub, wondering if the mother would return to fetch it. In the morning, my neighbor Debbie and I intervened: we scooped up the abandoned baby and took it to a wildlife rehab center, hoping for the best. It died a few hours later. Life and death inexorably intertwined. The fragile pages turn.
Maybe this year, I think, the fox family will do better. But the mother entertains no such hope or expectation. For her, the only moment is right here, right now. The days are lengthening, warming; it’s time to prepare a den, to hunt, to assess the landscape, to get ready to begin again.
I pull on the same clothes I wore yesterday, come down to the kitchen, start coffee. And I assess my own landscape. It occurs to me that for the first time in months my heart feels unburdened, as if a stone has fallen off it and rolled quietly away.
It’s taken time, many sleepless nights, both patience and prayer, but I think I finally understand how I must make my peace with the person who has hurt me. I’m ready to accept an apology that’s not been offered, that probably never will be. I choose to forgive her anyway, unconditionally, as much for my sake as for hers.
If I can make room in my own heart for what she’s done, then I can also move toward healing – here, now, without needing to understand, without needing to be right, without needing to explain my version, without, in fact, needing anything at all — other than a willingness to let go and move on.
At last, this long hard winter is coming to an end. Soon, there will be yellow nubs on the forsythia, the first jewel-toned crocus pushing up through warming soil, robins arriving to build nests in the lilacs, a new family born in a snug hole in the field, hungry coyotes on the prowl. Endings, beginnings, life having its way — fierce and beautiful and fleeting. Always, there is loss entangled with growth. Always, there is mystery beyond human understanding. Always, we are challenged to surrender, to accept, to change.
The world beckons. Silently, somewhere deep within me, an invisible page turns. Forgiveness, it seems, goes hand in hand with faith, with humility. It is the soul-work of a winter-weary heart in spring: thawing, softening, opening to the light, to whatever is meant to be.
“…whatever is happening in this moment is already in the process of turning into something else.”
So much here I loved and needed to absorb today. And I agree, though it’s still cold, something ineffable feels different.
Lovely imagery! Thank you for sharing your New Hampshire spring day. Regarding your friend, I’m sure you know, this too shall pass. “To err is human, to forgive divine.” Thank you for choosing the high road. My wish for you is a perfect nights sleep!
“A willingness to let go and move on”. Many times, such a large and difficult task – for me, and I believe, for all of us to learn – and then be able to hold on to when the next set of challenges present themselves to us. Just when I think I have mastered this skill of letting go, I seem to need to learn it all over again. Katrina, your lovely words always seem to wash over me – very much like a meditation – and I find so much that resonates deep within. Thank you.
I have found myself in a similar situation a few times where I have felt deeply hurt by a dear friend. There were two times her actions, and words cut straight to my heart. I chose to let her know exactly how I felt. How do you deliberately chose the path that hurts another? Especially when the alternate to her path chosen would have been no less rewarding for her. She heard me out, but at that time chose to continue doing what was a betrayal to me. I moved on without my dear friend of 15 years. Fortunate to have other friends equally cherished who helped me move forward. Two years have passed, and this past December a text, a phone call, and a co-birthday dinner celebration brought us back together. It feels as if no time passed, no awkwardness, just love, and yes unspoken forgiveness, perhaps by both of us.
Thank you so much – words I desperately needed today.
“To err is human, to forgive … canine!”
My favourite fridge magnet, given to me by my daughter.
Xo
The words below were written by my cousin to comfort a young woman whose mother died 3 years ago last week. It is what I am trying to do when confronted with things I struggle with… “You will find peace and go on bravely….” I thought the sentiments would speak to you, too.
“Life holds more questions than answers. With faith and hope we go on. Your love for your mother is surely felt by her. She would embrace you if she could. My prayer is that you will find peace and go on bravely.”–Marilyn Giese
Feeling those first changes when the ice begins to thaw and the air begins to lighten, I remember that. I remember it and am glad for the reminder here that the same process happens inside us. If we let it. A beautiful post, Katrina! Thank you.
My precious friend, in “When the Going Gets Tough,” you transformed tears and heartache into a prayer so exquisite, I heard it as music. Again today, your words are bells on the wind, ringing high and sweet and clear.
You are so right, we must let the fragile page turn. Pain, doubt, and fear pull us toward darkness. Yet, if we acquiesce to what is, if we reach out our hands in the darkness, just as spring never fails, the light will return. “For as it is in nature, so it is in life.”
Your posts unfailingly embrace my heart and lift my spirit. Thank you. xoxo
I don’t know how it happens, but your blogs always seem to arrive at the very time I need your beautiful words. I, too, have been hurt by a very dear friend and have been trying to decide if I hold it inside, confront her or just let it pass. I choose to accept these hurtful times and move on. No good will come of confrontation and I will never understand the whole story anyway. thank you for helping me to see that. It is so good to know that others go through these same things. I treasure your words now and in the future.
May the love of all of us that read and soak in your words inhabit any space of pain in your heart.
Smiles follow tears- joy will find a way. As a fellow dog lover- I am struck by this statement following a big scare with our Girl- having what we thought was a stroke we rushed our dog to the emergency vet at 6am on Monday. The techs took her from us and disappeared to work on her. We were left in the empty waiting room to worry and there were tears a plenty! And then someone came in for a regular check up- a beautiful white English bulldog who would not leave us be- she kept coming over to us with a big doggy smile, rubbing up against us. The owner kept apologizing and pulling her away- but this Big Girl knew we were in pain and was giving us some love- giving us joy and making us smile through our tears, telling us in her doggy way that it was going to be ok.
And it was- our Girl Bridgette came through and appears to be fine- just a case of severe vertigo/Vestibular syndrome.
Katrina- I am sorry that someone hurt you so- but am encouraged by your resilence and your hope! I hope you are smiling without those tears!
Thank you so much for sharing. I appreciate hearing about your process (and as always, the beauty you weave in!). I felt like I’d finally grown up when someone insulted me deeply and unapologetically – someone I have to see daily at the bus stop! – and even though I was shaking with tears and unmoored, I could also see that there had to be a reason for it. I actually had a great conversation with our mutual friend Pleasance of Lil Omm around that time, and it so helped me to see that I needed to be tested and to get to the other side of the pain. The issue still bothers me sometimes, and I occasionally fantasize about saying something to this person that is also unkind or that is just kind of arrogant, but I know I don’t need that. What I need is gratitude. I try to stick with the sort of “sacred contracts” perspective that in some way, my soul back before I came to earth asked this person to hurt me so that I could learn and grow in an important way. And to get an “I believe in you” card from Pleasance! That meant a lot. Still, sometimes I imagine that if I were a better person, I wouldn’t have so offended someone; everyone else seems to have so many friends who love them on Facebook and all! So it helps to read that other people get hurt, too. Thank you for letting us in.
This is my first received post, Katrina….so lovely, so true, such a gift..thank you!
Sometimes forgiving can be extremely difficult. Remember you do have a choice. In forgiving, you let go of anger and frustration that can make you miserable and depressed. The other option is to let go of that individual if they are making your life difficult. Sometimes it is healthier for you. Thank you for your beautiful descriptions of the natural world around you. I hope you put these wonderful essays in book form. Another chapter in our lives. The empty nest.
Dear Katrina,
I have felt as though I have known you forever since reading The Blessings of an Ordinary Day. We are two kindred spirits joined by our closeness in age, being moms (and loving it!), and having both the time and ability to look at the simple things that make up “life”. I have been a stay at home mom of two children for the last 13 years. I had children late in life (first at 37 and my second at almost 40). I so identify with your books and posts whether it was about your grandmother or leaving the home that you personified as a living family member. I too am forever caught up in the closeness of memories gently tucked in my heart. This year alone , I made two purchases on eBay solely to recapture a time and place in my life that has passed. The first item was a plastic Nativity that was sold everywhere when we were kids. You know, the kind you could find in a five and dime shop that measured approximately 5″x3″. The second was a “flip clock” from the 1970’s where the seconds would rotate and then flip the number over. Life was so simple then and happy with all my family around. I am sorry for your hurt and yes, we all must accept the fact that rain will fall in our lives. I still say my “thank you’d to God every morning though. I’m thankful for a warn bed next to a good man and 2 healthy children. I’m thankful for my peaceful night of sleep because we none realize how much of a blessing that is until we have a worry that keeps us up all night. I”m thankful for my family’s health while I watch my aunt dying a terrible death from pancreatic cancer. I pray God never calls my children home before me after driving my sister to the hospital last summer to find he oldest son unexpectantly dead. I too sometimes will admit I’d like to hide from life and the world with its dreadful hurts. I would prefer to play it safe and just tend to my own business. I think though that God has a deliberate plan for me and I know that I must accept whatever He sends my way. I appreciate the beautiful picture from your bathroom window. It seems so quiet, so peaceful, and such a wonderful place to enjoy some solitude in Nature. I so envy you! I just want you to know that I personally look forward to reading your posts because it’s like a mirror reflecting all I am going through. Thank you for the talent that you share so eloquently!
Before reading your beautiful post I read this quote from Sarah Ban Breathnach a friend posted on FB. It feels right to share it here :
” Expect to have hope rekindled. Expect your prayers to be answered in wondrous ways. The dry seasons in life do not last. Spring rains will come again.”
To that I add, “And with them the yellow crocus appears while baby foxes frolic in the sunshine.”
Always appreciate your words.
Thank you for this Katrina. Words I needed to hear as I have been in a situation where I too am having a hard time forgiving. I love your note, about life being hard. I love all of your writings. Nothing quite like waking up to a cup of coffee and a bit of Katrina Kenison.
Thank you for this gift on the first day of spring. Forgiveness is such a difficult gift to offer others…and ourselves…but its healing potential is beyond measure…for ourselves and others.
Katrina,
Thank you, once again, for your beautiful words. I so wish you would post short “thoughts of the day” or even publish your blog posts! You touch so many hearts….
As a huge Downton Abbey fan, last weekend, I took my granddaughter to see the new Cinderella movie. Ella’s mother’s dying words to her were – “Remember always “Be Kind and Be Brave”. I know this seems so silly to even quote, but they are simple words that we should all follow…
Katrina,
Your words seem to always touch my heart at the right time. I am grateful to have you in my life.
Spring is filled with the hope of new life, and hope heals. Thank you for your transparency, Katrina, which is revealed through your wonder-filled words. Happy Spring!
purely beautiful.
and, yes, by the way, that path bestrewn with stars is a wonder of the natural and poetic world. and i thank you for pointing me toward one of the dearest lights in my life, blessed amy.
and thank you deeply for the wisdom this sentence holds: “To be human is to hurt, to worry, to wonder, to suffer, to stare at the ceiling at three a.m.”
for not only making it seem “okay,” but also allowing us to behold the tender beauty of all our soft spots…..
As always your inspiration message is thoroughly enjoyed. Thank you for being YOU!
I love this post! Thanks for sharing and baring your soul. It is not easy to forgive and move on. I have been there. But there are only two emotions, love and fear, and you chose love!
How is your friend, the one with brain cancer, doing? My moods these days have been impacted by the fact that my brother is battling stage 3 brain cancer. Some days feel especially heavy, and others give me hope that the healing and recovery we pray for are coming. Thank you for sharing your heart in such a transparent, beautiful way.
Katrina, I often save reading your posts for a quieter time when I can absorb your words and reflect on my own experiences. I, too, have been hurt by a close friend, twice by the same friend. The first time, tears, followed by years of silence; then, a willingness to let the past dissolve, to permit renewal. Then, there it was again, incomprehensible betrayal…..different this time, no tears, no bewilderment, just acceptance of the end.
Carolyn SAID
“March 18, 2015 at 2:13 pm
“To err is human, to forgive … canine!”
My favourite fridge magnet, given to me by my daughter.
Xo
THE FRIDGE MAGNET STMT POSTED BY CAROLYN’S DAUGHTER IS A MODIFICATION OF ALEXANDER POPE’S MORE IMPORTANT QUOTED STMT: “TO ERR IS HUMAN, TO FORGIVE IS DIVINE.”
I feel seriously out-numbered by the females here! lol Where are the males?
I’m glad you’re here! There actually are a few guys who are loyal readers but yeah, you are outnumbered, I’m afraid. My husband feels the same way!