What the Storm Left Behind

There are weekends that don't go according to plan.

The disappointment came first. A much anticipated appointment, canceled at the last minute because something more important came up. I explained why. I never heard back, not even an acknowledgment. Just silence where a reply should have been.

Then came the emergency itself - one of our dogs needing medical attention, the kind that catches you by surprise and makes everything stop.

But it wasn't really about this one weekend. Little things had been accumulating for days, weeks, months... quiet enough that I barely noticed them landing. Just when I thought I was past all of it, this weekend cracked it open. Every small thing I'd let slide came back to the surface at once, and this time it didn't just make me want to cry and withdraw for a day. It made me want to withdraw for good.

This was one of those weekends.

So at the end of the day, feeling heavy, I went outside.

I sat on the porch steps, and let the evening settle around me. Instead of scrolling, I opened the meditation app on my phone and pressed play on a recording. A steady voice reminded me to keep going no matter what. Reminded me how much my work matters. My words. My presence. Reminding me that even on the days it feels like nothing is landing, someone somewhere is being reached.

I don't know exactly what shifted. But something did. And I was grateful for that person. For her taking the time to record that for someone out there that might need it.

The urge to disappear loosened its grip. The tears that had been sitting at the surface all weekend finally had somewhere to go, and when they came, they came gently instead of like a flood.

A lighthouse never sees the ships it saves.

It just keeps its light burning through fog, through storms, through the long stretch of night when no one is watching and nothing seems to be happening. It never gets to know which boat changed course because of it, which sailor found the shore instead of the rocks. It just stays lit.

Maybe that's what showing up quietly means. You rarely get to see where your light lands. You just have to trust that it's reaching someone, somewhere - even on the weekend it felt like the storm. 🌻

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✨ Have you ever had a weekend like this, where the little things you'd been quietly holding finally came loose all at once? I'd love to hear your story

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