Not my week. Wanted to get in my car and drive away. Far away. Leave all my chores unfinished. Even leave my kids. Not forever, mind you. Just until I could breathe again. Until I didn’t feel like I was buried alive. Maybe until someone told me how to fix things. Make it all OK again.

Totally self-centered behavior. Insane, really. I have friends that are going through some intense things. Hard, impossible things. Yet I complain and whine like a 2-year-old. Ugh.

While I’m still battling out of that dark place, I do see a light. I had moments yesterday that were so beautiful that I was brought to tears. Yet…that dark voice was still there. I still found time to complain and find fault. Double ugh.

So today I NEED to revel in the beauty. To magnify and focus on those moments of joy and love. To see the light.

My children attend a Waldorf school and part of the curriculum involves seasonal festivals. One of the most beautiful is May Day. Everyone comes dressed in white and makes crowns of flowers for their heads. It’s a celebration of spring, life and renewal.

The eighth graders perform the Maypole dance. No. Not that kind of pole. What’s wrong with you?

It’s an old tradition that dates back thousands of years. It always make me so happy to see these 13 and 14 year old kids, dressed in white, skipping and dancing. There is something so innocent and transformative about it.

When my mom arrived, I saw her from across the field. She looked beautiful. Dressed in a white gown with pearl buttons down the front and cute white sandals. Radiating love. My home. I flagged her down and then skipped, barefooted across the field to embrace her. “Your crazy,” she says. “I know.”

After the celebration we went to a wedding reception for my beautiful sister. Our relationship is hard to explain. We are not blood relatives, or even related by marriage, but circumstances have brought us together. She is one of the most radiant and upbeat people I have ever encountered. When she walked into the room, she glowed. Here she is with her new husband and her second mom. Magnificent.

My kids don’t know how to NOT create things. I wasn’t sure if I should be proud or horrified as they quickly rounded up supplies, including dirt from outside, to create new centerpieces for the table. And, yes, my boy wore a tank top to a wedding. It was a luau, and seeing as he didn’t have a Hawaiian shirt, he insisted he dress like he was going to the beach. Sigh.

Then my crazy kids just HAD to dance. Smiling. Laughing. Falling. They even laid in the middle of the floor making snow angels and giggling as the gold streamers tickled their faces.

Even though nobody else was dancing, Lola twirled around the room. She added some round-house kicks to her dance routine. She then grabbed my hand and led my out to the floor. We twirled and did silly kicks. Her smile was so huge. “Kick off those shoes so you can dance properly” she said. I did. We twirled and spun. Throwing our heads back we laughed.

Lead me Lola. Lead me out of darkness. I’ll follow you.

After the wedding, we went to grandmas. They wanted to spend the night. Bunk beds.  Digging in the dirt. Movies. Dog kisses. Blanket cuddles. Wrestling. Jokes.

Grandma led us outside to her oasis. “The baby birds have hatched.” Little beaks open to the sky. Feed me.

Yes. Feed me. Fill me up. I’m coming back…