Silver Linings

Some time ago, when I’d finally digested the fact that mothering a chronically ill child was now my full-time job, that barring a cure or a miracle, the situation might improve but those halcyon days before were a mere memory, I told a friend that the key to my emotional survival was “lowered expectations and silver linings”.  Not surprisingly, as we are well into our third week of relentless torrential rains here (sparking a nasty flare for the Celtic Warrior Princess and a dangerous mental imbalance in me), silver linings have been on my mind lately. And I’ve decided that they are more than a survival tool; they are a cornerstone of a happy and productive life.

If, like me, you tend to be sensitive to changes in all sorts of weather, opportunities to investigate this will be endless. Those clouds will go scudding across your days and shower you with the annoyances and grievances life has in store for all of us. And then there will be the tropical storm systems that hover overhead for weeks at a time. Occasionally, if you’re unlucky, there will be a cataclysmic event. Regardless of the size or duration of those clouds, they all have silver linings.

The countless little silver linings can be easy to overlook. The interminable waiting (for appointments, for time-challenged friends, for the Celtic warrior princess to get her ass in the car) allows me to read over 100 books a year, reconnect with far flung friends, or jot down my latest hare-brained idea. The more onerous aspects of home ownership allow me to build confidence as I learn more than I ever expected to know about HVAC systems, pool maintenance and plumbing. This despair-inducing spate of monsoon-like rain has resulted in my plowing through mountains of paperwork, crossing long-neglected items off my to-do list, and starting a novel. (OK, and maybe doing a jigsaw puzzle or five and bingeing a little on Netflix.)

The biggest clouds, of course, have the biggest silver linings. These are the outcomes I have come to count as genuine blessings rather than as mere consolations. My daughter’s struggles have bonded us in a way that would be impossible were she a “normal” teenager, and we’ve both developed compassion and empathy, for each other and for humanity, in spades. My personal struggles over the last several years have led me to a more authentic version of myself, one I’m (usually) happy with. And while the uncertainty of our futures can be terrifying, the boundless possibilities are also exhilarating.

As I write, thunder is roaring and the downpour will resume momentarily. So my walk is canceled, again, but my house will be clean, dinner will be home-cooked, and I’ll have more time to write. What are your silver linings?