You just might find you float.
Hello from snowy Vermont. I’m off schedule this week; time flipped me upside down. But I’ve been thinking a lot about what I wanted to post, and it’s about my daughter Serena’s gofundme. My friend Raven got the page all set up–all I had to do was provide the text. It’s been live since March 6th, and its purpose is to help us with relocation costs and Serena’s dream for her own environmentally designed and made tiny house. At first I felt reserved and distant about it. How could we expose ourselves so much to the outside world? How could we tell the world that we were in need? Why couldn’t we have figured out how to stand on our own two feet in time of crisis? How embarrassing.
Well, chronic disease crashes five-year plans and budgets like nobody’s business. Trying to get us all relocated by the time construction starts at the school next door will be impossible without our reaching out for help. I’ve stuck my pride in my back pocket. I’ve stuck my strong sense of independence down my boot. I’m hanging us out on the clothesline and waving in the wind, signaling Help! Help!
It’s what it is. For those of you who have contributed, thank you. We’ll talk with you individually as soon as we can about what it has meant to us. For now, I continue to promote the cause. Serena and I are looking at our first potential house rental this Saturday. If she can breathe there and the environmental history of the house is good, our lives will get much easier in regard to moving, since it’s located in the next town over from us.
I don’t think I can ever get maxed out on feelings. Every time I see a contributor pop up, with a name or anonymously, I choke up and cry. Serena does the same. If you let go, if you totally let go, you just find you float.
Check in next week for another segment of Finding Home.