Our Lady's Lamp

No place is too dark for the Healer; no place is too deep. With little effort, she walks to landscapes hidden from sight and obscured from memory. No landscape is too desolate for her calloused feet to tread. She is the moon, granting a soft light to walk by, the stars twinkling to remind those below of beauty, the gentle pool for the weary to rest their feet and refresh their minds. No place is too far for a Healer, no place too foreign, for inside her is the ability to speak the language of the heart. Her mouth may be still, but her heart surges forth. Her body may be far, but her soul is near. The Healer dreams hope, breathes love, and whispers strength. She does not fear the darkness, for it is not any different than the light. The Healer illuminates the beauty in both and helps mend the broken paths that make the darkness treacherous. She will sing in the sunlight, dance in the rain, sway in the moonlight, and praise throughout the changes.  She may never get to see ...

Being a warrior woman is exhausting. And it's lonely. And it's largely my fault that it is. I'm the strong one, the calm one, the one to call in a crisis - either to back you up or help lift you out. I'll fight for you if you're too tired. I'll be your strength, encouragement, the kick in the pants, and your rock to lean on. And it's usually my joy to do it too. I'm calm when you're breaking apart. I'm strong when you need to be weak. I'm the fighter, the healer, the mover. And it's true that the more and I can be and help another, the happier I am. Until suddenly I'm the one needing that hand, that shoulder, that nudge. I spend so much time hiding by helping others. Part of it is that I do really want to hep, but part of it is to hide my weakness. It's easier to help others than to ask for help. It's easier to distract from my wounds by bandaging yours. This is my version of trying to tend to your speck while I'm st...

So, it's storming, and I absolutely adore thunderstorms. There is little I enjoy more than a full blown, house-rattling thunderstorm. Thunder and lightning always make me grin like a little girl. (Playing in the rain that they often accompany is also loads of fun. Just sayin') And Texas can do a good storm! I love being able to hear the thunder rattle things in the house and crack loud enough to wake the dead (though, admittedly, three-o'clock in the morning is a less than ideal time for that), to see the lightning that will light up the room for several seconds even with blinds or curtains closed. I think it's because it's so powerful. Even though I can't touch it, and I can barely characterize it, I can feel it deep inside me - sometimes literally! The sound reverberates, but it doesn't just it my ear drums, it travels and hits me in my marrow. As a kid, when we traveled from South Dakota to Texas or vice-versa, my sister and I would press our faces to...