Barriers

I keep hitting this wall,
It's never gonna fall...
oh, too many barriers
-David Archuleta, "Barriers"


Yesterday I wrote about going to yoga at the North Saskatchewan Independent Living Centre.  I also wanted to write about the lovely necklace they gave me just for showing up!  It is silver and has a turquoise and purple stylized flower on the pendant; on the other side of that pendant are the words, "Living without Barriers," a positive message about the things they hope to accomplish with their centre (You can purchase them for $10 and they are made in Canada).  In fact, they gave me 2 - one for me, and one for my seven-year-old, Chelsea.  I had planned to write about how cool I thought these necklaces were today, but my writing plans were averted when last night, Saskatchewan, and indeed, many other parts of Canada, experienced a snowstorm that one might expect in January - blowing snow, 70+ km/hr winds - causing highways to close, accidents to occur, and buses to stop running.  In the morning, I kept my seven-year-old home home from school for a while in the hopes that the wind would die down, but when it was clear that it would not, and when I was assured the streets were safe to drive on, she and I decided to try and go.


It was a poor decision.  We opened the garage door to find 4 inches of snow on the driveway.   Chelsea grabbed a shovel, but she could not move any of the snow because the wind had blown it into a hard-like-concrete sheet.  I took a sharp shovel and tried to chip away the snow so she could move some of it, but every time I lifted that shovel, it felt like I was being stabbed in my right shoulder and my still-recovering wrists were burning.  With the windchill making it feel like a biting -20 degrees, we abandoned our shovels and Chelsea then grabbed my chair and pulled me toward the van.  I opened the door, took out the control for the lift, only to discover that it would not move.  Even in my frustration, I had to wonder if the lift was smarter than me.  At least it knew when to stay inside.


I don't know if it was the pain I put myself through, the guilt over not getting Chelsea to school, the fact that yesterday was supposed to be the start of Spring, or how ridiculously long this winter has been, but when we entered our safe, warm house I started to cry.  Sob, really.


Chelsea put her arms around me.  She pulled out the necklace I had given her yesterday and attached it around my neck. She was already wearing hers.  She said, "Sometimes there are unfair barriers.  I know you are frustrated, but we just have to take a break and try again later."


She helped me take a monumentally frustrating moment and make it small, shifting my perspective, changing my mind.  Beauty when I least expected it.  Here we are in that moment, tears dried, noses wiped, cheeks flushed, and wearing our necklaces.


Spring is coming.  I promise.


wishing you the beauty of perspective,
hk