I didn't intend to use my blog to bask in the reflected glory of my fabulously talented children
(though I admit I AM button-popping proud of them).
But my youngest produced this the other day and, oh my Lord, my heart squeezed up so tight.
'Joy' is my middle name. 'Hope' was our wee girl's name. And 'love', of course, LOVE is what holds us together and connects us all.
Sometimes I think that he is closer to his sister than I am. Often I feel she is so far away.
And I need the simple, clear sight of a nine-year old to help me to see things.
So, thank you, little man. This means the world to me. It will go in my box of treasures.
I gave myself a fright the other day.
I went out running on a new route I hadn't tried before.
I got lost. Not LOST lost. But definitely disorientated lost.
And I ended up running along a busy main road, with lorries and buses screeching past close by. Not what I'd intended. And a long way from home.
I was so cross with myself for making such a silly mistake, for not paying enough attention, for getting it wrong.
I doled out a severe talking-to.
And when you're running there's plenty of time to beat yourself up.
I felt small. And not in a good way. I felt vulnerable. And there are few things I recoil from more than feeling vulnerable. I felt pretty stupid. I wanted to cry. I prayed a lot.
Here's the bridge I was supposed to be running over (on a good day):
It's 250 feet high, and the only way to get to it from down on the busy road was by going up. A lot.
I made it home, eventually. I cried then.
