"Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you're perfectly free." ~ Rumi
My bandages were ripped off one final time. My wire stitches came out, my drain was removed and I was given a new found freedom. I drove the car after two weeks of being at the mercy of my husband. The boys and I escaped the house and drove to Target, with the windows down, the sun streaming in, and me wincing at every turn of the steering wheel, but turning nonetheless.
I'm driving straight into it. The pain when I raise my arm too high, or too quick. The hour it takes to figure out what fits, what works, what I can jerry-rig together to get by. The seams that rub wounds raw, the straps that bind, the undergarments that pucker with emptiness.
And abundance that fills my cup again and again...
"The wound is the place where the Light enters you." ~ Rumi
These are the flowers that grew- when I didn't plant any, nada, nothing, none. Not one flower, seed or plant. This is our bounty. "Volunteer" tomatoes, and flowers from seeds leftover from last year. It was in my heart, deeply, on my mind, steadily. I didn't plant anything this spring. And it grew anyway. The provision of God. The light shines deeply.