I want to live a life with passion.
Desperately.
To wake up and embrace.
Having had trouble sleeping for the thrill of it all.
For the chasing of beauty.
Another new day.
To breathe in the morning and rejoice in the new.
All quiet and tip-toeing out of the dark.
Shimmering awake with the summer sun.
Filling the senses.
And I breathe it all in.
Grateful. And calmed.
Morning routine. Summer disheveled.
Padding out to the garden.
Coffee in hand.
The cacophony of birdsong. Cicadas.
Cone flowers starting to bend.
Their long limbs heavy.
All part of the mystery. The beauty.
Of summer. Soon turning to fall.
And what do I do?
I am asked all the time.
With the passion. In the desperate.
Well.
Not destined to dazzle.
Not how I am made.
Made to love simple.
The wild and the beautiful. This ordinary.
Hot tea and good books and conversation.
Morning routine and authentic lives.
Serendipity showing up.
Color and texture and pattern.
Nature spilling gorgeous all over our lives.
And snapping the picture.
To remember. Reinforce.
Glorious extravagant creation.
What I see.
In the morning sweet.
The promise.
Of more to come.
This beauty written.
All over our lives.
And I breathe it all in.
Grateful. And calmed.
Because. It softens our sadness.
Bringing joy to our day.
Connecting the dots with grace.
Of lives living frazzled. Tempestuous.
And us. Unsure and wanting.
But wait. There is more.
Because beauty.
Just a signature.
For Grace.
Amazing Grace.
And then. Falling like rain.
And I laugh.
When my heart may be almost bursting.
For the sheer joy.
Of chasing beauty.
Desperately. Passionately.
In the sweet summer morning.
Disheveled.
And in the evening rain.
Heard in the news today.
Cities build nets under bridges.
For those jumping. Those in despair.
When.
Depression digging deep with darkness.
And we grieve.
And we will miss you, Mr. Williams.
And we are sorry. No net could catch you.
And keep you safe.
Knowing now. As we do.
Behind that handsome smile.
Brilliant comedy. Outrageous creativity.
Spilling all over our lives.
The gift of impromptu. Genius even.
Handing out laughter with ease.
And we.
Laughing with you and loving you.
And embracing carpe diem shouting loud.
Believing it even.
And even though you told us.
We didn't really listen.
That you suffered.
And while tributes pouring in.
Being reminded.
That for you. Deep down. All along.
Despair and pain throbbing loud.
Beneath the humor. The talent. The smile.
And that may yet be your greatest legacy.
To show us.
Not enough to build nets under bridges.
We need each other.
In the raw and in the ugly.
When the pain churns heavy.
Because. No one really wants to do this.
And so I thank you, Mr. Williams.
For the laughter. But also.
For the honesty.
Amidst star struck and funny.
And all this world has to offer.
Telling the truth. Always.
Through your life and even now.
About darkness and despair consuming.
That dark vortex of depression.
In order to validate. The pain. In others.
And helping to remove the stigma.
Society judging.
And hanging nets under bridges.
When what is needed is so much more.
The being there with someone.
Validation and love.
Empathy and compassion.
The courage to speak out.
To get help. To help others.
God knows.
Life is hard. On so many levels.
And we struggle.
And He.
Offering unfathomable love.
And scandalous grace.
To rescue our weary souls.
And even that. Sometimes.
Not enough to stop the sickness.
But His arms ready to catch us.
Better than nets. Under bridges.
Busy. Too busy.
Said in in the moment.
In the pride.
Doing stuff. Important work.
Activity. Events.
Overflowing the calendar.
In all seasons. Life never slowing.
And in our culture. A symbol.
Sometimes an excuse.
Sometimes just real good stuff. This busy.
But also.
Sometimes.
A cover. For wounds and sorrows and pain.
When reality crashes into us.
Never stopping to feel. Emotion running hard.
And so the dance.
To achieve and cram and stuff.
Every moment full.
With busy.
But what I am finding.
In the healing.
And in the slow.
Goodness. Showing up.
Like a child.
Intent on a project.
Bent low. Face scrunched up.
With smock and long handled brushes.
Tubes leaking color. And canvas blank.
Savoring the moment.
Hurry gone. Busy vanquished.
And slowly.
Something new emerging.
On a canvas. In a life.
Because.
When the too-busy falls away.
The wild crazy of it all.
And the breathing slows.
And the laughter.
It just deepens and fills the space.
Where there was despair and hurry.
Instead.
Like a child. Finding joy.
And filling a canvas.
With ordinary and painful even.
And the colors exploding.
In the reeling and then the rest.
Into something beautiful.
Finding.
In the slow.
Whether an hour. An afternoon.
A week away. Or a season long.
To fill. With God.
His goodness.
In the. You're good enough.
And the wild crazy of it all.
The laughter.
It just deepens and fills the space.
When the too-busy falls away.
