How We Meet Our Challenges

I’m not special in my suffering. It’s one of the things I know I have in common with my ancestors. At some point, the universe has delivered us all difficult challenges.

My 10x great-grandmother Mary Chilton found herself orphaned in the new world at the age of 12 when both of her parents died the first winter. My 3x great-grandparents Bailey Harrison Whitcher and Ordelia Lozier lost two sons to the Civil War, a heartache I cannot imagine. My great-grandmother Hattie Eva Smith, had to go to work at the age of forty-eight after her husband died, due to his pre-existing condition that meant the government didn’t have to pay on his pension.

And I got burnt. Pretty f’ing badly.

It didn’t happen for a reason. No one was punishing me. It was no one’s fault. Just a freak accident.

My ancestress Mary toughed out the first few years at Plymouth under the care of another family until her older siblings crossed over. She made the new world her home. Bailey and Ordelia moved on, as much as any family can. And great-grandma Hattie worked as a nurse until she died.

And I’m going to walk.

I could let the pain and sadness swallow me. Or I could let the joy at breathing and opening my eyes every day wash over me. I choose happiness and love, which I hold onto on dark days, for their are plenty of those.

Would you confront a nightmare with more darkness?

I light candles on my ancestor altar and I call on their strength. Whether the answer comes carried to me on the winds or is borne from deep within me, I feel them, walking with me. I am not alone.