first outdoor run of spring

i was grateful to be at Citizens Park,

running the paths, navigating the melting ice--

the first outdoor run of the spring,

when everything, though muddy, is fresh.

to be able to breathe outdoor air,

to own the gift of respiration.

the natural rhythms of the body,

in coordination.

grateful for fresh outdoor air, for life, for health.

for the calm that follows the storm.

for the freshness that melts the ice.

for the exhilaration of being mobile and alive.

it seems more precious to me than ever

partly because of the 

deliverance

from the constant recirculated air of winter.

because much of the season,

we were in

tight rooms 

and long eternal hallways.

to have a taste of spring,

of raw fresh soil outside muddying my running shoes,

a burst of freshness that I don't take for granted,

at least not today.

thank You for recovery

and the relative peace after the blizzards.

the quiet picking up of our lives

and holding them up to the sunlight.

coming up for air

Hello again, friends.

Since last I posted, aeons ago, I've needed all my energy to help Corinne through a process which involves many tests and a major surgery.  I'm happy to report she is on the mend and on her way to health.  

Simultaneously, though, when Corinne was turning the corner, my mom, Pat Ferguson, was diagnosed with stage 4 aggressive cancer.  As Corinne gained steam, my mom declined--heartbreakingly fast.  Mom passed from earth to heaven a short time ago, and we celebrated her life in a memorial service this past Sunday.

It was so poignant to tell her life story as a family, each in turn telling a chapter.  Singing the songs she loved, thanking God for her extraordinary life.  And extraordinary it was.  How blessed and graced we were to have her as our mom.

And how deep the void now where her shining presence was.

Only now, in the calm that follows the whirlwind, can I begin to post my thoughts and prayers again. 

Only now do I begin to come out from my tunnel and see the daylight and feel my pulse normalize.

Now I get my bearings and look around like a groundhog coming out from hibernation.

Good morning sky. 

Good morning melting snow.  

Good morning spring rain.