Being ill is not easy. There is loneliness, because your people are cheering you from the shore, but you are the one who has to swim. Yet, there is hidden wealth inside of illness. Even as your sturdy shell grows frail and bits of you begin to fall away, there is a feeling of becoming something more. Maybe it takes the crucible to open our eyes, the way a swift freeze can make the frost flowers bloom. Maybe it was never meant to be easy. But look how you can see miracles with the veil pulled back. The sunlight of a lazy afternoon. Your daughter's smile. Your own quiet strength. Now watch as your soul rises right to the surface like a bird at the door of its cage.
