The promise

Hydrangea's on my desk beside my bed
Day one of week two of finding my ribcage begins with a slow start.

I've discovered that sometimes, before the weight is shed, it hurts.

Like my hip. Don't know what I did, or how I did it but the only way it's comfortable is in bed! Go figure. Really, lying in bed helps. So, as there's smoke in the air and the skies are cloudy, I'm using this opportunity to do nothing but take care of my hip. I will go for a good long walk with Ellie, as walking helps it, but sitting... Uh uh. No sitting. That really hurts.

Fortunately, I can still work on my computer as I can keep the angle of my hip to body ratio lowered in bed than on a chair at my desk -- and what a better way to spend my day than working on my new book sitting in bed.

Working on the book is very much a game of 'trust'. Trust in the process of writing. Trust that what I have to say will be worthwhile. Trust the writing itself will be strong, and powerful and of value.

This book is about stories from the street. Stories I've written about my experiences working at a homeless shelter. Stories about how the street is a reflection of life in all its angles -- the micro of the macro. Street stories parallel life stories. They are about people. People and their stuff, their wounds, their beliefs, their fears and doubts and the stories they tell on themselves.

Stories that keep people stuck. That keep them doing again and again what they did before. Stories that inspire, touch the heart, touch upon dreams and hopes and joy. Stories of love, loss, tears, heartache and heartbreak.

Stories about people.

In writing this book I am getting clear of the 'pain' and into the promise of life beyond the street. Because ultimately, what the street shows all of us is that there is pain and there is promise. And when we stay in those places where pain imbues our every moment with its insistence there is nowhere else to be, no other way to live, we lose sight of the promise.

The promise of a new tomorrow. The promise of better days, better ways. The promise of growth, of growing beyond the fears that keep us stuck, beyond the pain that keeps us down.

The street carries a lot of pain. Writing it out leads me into the promise of new tomorrows and all the richness and possibilities a brand new day brings.

Hope your day is filled with the promise of your life unfolding in the beauty and wonder of this brand new day unfolding just for you.