The imperfect is our paradise.
Don’t talk to me about flowers and sunshine and waterfalls; this is the ground in which life sows the seeds of our fulfillment. The imperfect is our paradise.
Let us pray then that we do not shun the struggle. May we attend with mindfulness, generosity, and compassion to all that is broken in our lives. May we live fully in each flawed and too human moment, and thereby gain the victory.
~Philip Simmons from Learning to Fall
Let us pray then that we do not shun the struggle. May we attend with mindfulness, generosity, and compassion to all that is broken in our lives. May we live fully in each flawed and too human moment, and thereby gain the victory.
~Philip Simmons from Learning to Fall
Michael
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January 14, 2011 at 7:50 pm
Maura Donahue
As always, your writing moves and inspires me. I just wanted to write that there is nothing wrong with you (that you can’t compartmentalize the agony) and that I WON’T forget.
Maura
(Aisling, Ruari and Teagan’s mom)
January 18, 2011 at 7:36 pm
Melissa
This must be the pic you were telling me about. I was just going thru everyones shutterfly sites and such, making sure I was up to date, and happened to check here. My eyes immediately teared up, and I kind of lost it.
It is so hard to realize that it is as bad as it is, when you see him just hanging out, doing what he does on a daily basis still. I know the pain is soooo much worse now, but until I seen this photo, I don’t know if it ever set in quite how much worse. The simplicity of the photo, just says more than words could say. I can’t type this without a lump in my throat, and I wish more than anything that you guys didn’t have to live thru that feeling everyday. I love you all so much. I will always be here if or whenever you need to talk or just do nothing with company.
Always thinking of Michael and you all,
Melissa
January 19, 2011 at 12:03 am
Kristin
I wish I could express all that I felt when I saw this picture. Even now several hours later I am not able to formulate any words.
Michael thank you for sharing this picture. The title is so true. It shows your strenght and determination. I knew you were experiencing pain but I didn’t have any idea of the magnitude. If I could wish for any one thing is that you did not have to experience this kind of pain. I am praying for you and your family always, I know that may not bring you much comfort please know you are never far from my thoughts! I love you all so much!
Love,
Kristin
January 25, 2011 at 3:45 pm
Craig
Well, as a man, as Michael’s “best friend”, as an Irish American– too emotional perhaps when I see this picture two contradictory emotions flare up. One wants to beat my computer screen, computer, everything into a million pieces and tear the walls down and scream invectives at whoever or whatever will listen. It seems to me that all the pain of humanity is wrapped up in this picture. Innocent suffering is what I understand least in this world. If this were Elliot I really don’t know what I would do; I can’t even guess or go there. He’s not my son; he is my nephew and friend. So another emotion emerges…one that I don’t know whether it is justified or not. It says that this is true beauty. The beauty of a fallen world; the beauty of a family, a son, who has brought miracles, as the song says, to us that we don’t deserve. If Michael isn’t a miracle then I don’t know what one is and I don’t want to see one. What could be more miraculous than his soul? What could shake us from our lethargy and allow us to see the miracle of the human soul in all its glory and hurt and strength? Strength, yes, strength, I laugh at the so called “strong” of this world. They know nothing of true strength. Strength is in the agony of the years. We bow, we brake, we burn and from the ashes arises true strength that can say, “I am. I am here. I exist. I suffer and through it all my suffering will bring good despite all the odds against me. I will not allow evil to overcome and consume me. I will produce good in this world; I will stand against the tide and though it swallow me I will arise shine forth as gold in a world filled with ashes.”
But what right do I have to really say anything? If I actually smashed my computer, something that is valuable to me, then maybe I would have the right to say these things. Just maybe. Otherwise, what the hell does it cost me? Nothing, nothing at all. My son is healthy right now. I don’t really feel the hurt that you do. It would probably be best to just say simply and with an honest heart, “Craig wept and didn’t know what else to do or feel.”