I don’t know where I am going with this – I’ve got quite a bit to say it would seem. Its lucky really that we have been told to keep a low profile the next four weeks, because this evangelical nature of mine needs some calming-the-heck down.
What Albie went through this last month is more than most of us will battle with in a lifetime. His journey, to the brink and then right back again, has taught us all so much. And I say us – to include you, the many people that read this blog. It used to once be a modest wee place for close family and friends to see what we are up to, but now there is a much wider group surrounding us – a whole community of Albie cheerer-on-ers. When things were stupidly tough, the things that many of you wrote and emailed to us buoyed us, carried us through. And I can see too, from your comments, and from my own heart as well, how much Albie is cheering us all on as well. There is a lot to learn from this lil’ guy. Its much more of a two-way street than I would ever have imagined.
This life. This one right now – that we are living in, right here. Its so stonkingly precious. I am so conscious at the moment of how LUCKY we are. Lucky simply because we still have our son. We still have him. That is where my heart rests at the moment, that is the measure of my luck. Nothing more. And with such a basic measure of total satisfaction, the world is such a beautiful place. The afternoon in the winter sun on the needing-to-be-mowed grass? Heart. Bursting. Perfection.
I don’t kid myself by thinking that this is unique to us. We are just feeling keener the reality that is in all of our lives. The world is normally so good at turning up the noise, so we get distracted from what really matters – from love, from family, from friends. Its easy in good health to take our loved ones for granted and just get on with concerning ourselves with goodness-knows-what.
But everyone’s life can turn on a dime and all of a sudden what really matters zooms into painful focus. There was a girl at Starship with a major brain injury after she jumped through the gap in the safety nets on their trampoline and landed on her head. Another family in Intensive Care were beside their boy whose mystery gastro-illness had near enough destroyed his kidneys. Just like that, everything changes. I don’t want to be a doom and gloom merchant with these stories – far from it. What I mean to say with them is that this life is precious, and none of it is guaranteed.
All we can do is just love harder and love consciously while and when we can. We aren’t sure whether Albie will grow to 8, 15 or 50. And to be honest, none of you can be sure of the future for you and yours either. We just get to witness this life, in all its awesome glory – however long it is. Love, love, love, LOVE it.
So much beauty has come from Albie’s story already. Friends have told me that reading what we have been going through has made them hug their children harder. Loved, and missed, people from times gone past are back in touch. Our community is reaching out to us and heart families from around the world are making connections with us. Its real humbling. He is an awesome boy. It makes me smile and teary all at the same time.
Lecture #1 in an undetermined series of lectures is now complete.