Dark Skies and Hope: When Life Changes Everything

We bought a piece of art called Dark Skies. We love it. It's moody, unique, and shows a storm rolling over a grassy field. It's ominous. And hopeful.

Perhaps that's what storms are — ominous. Dark and loud, windy and the potential for damage, the potential for danger.

And also hopeful. Hopeful for the morning to come and the rain soaked earth to sing its praises as the sun peeks through the dew lays thick on the bright green earth.

Ominous. Hopeful.

That's where we are.

Zeke had his first football game the day we knew something was wrong.

It wasn't sunny, but I wore sunglasses anyway. Holding back tears during the game, unsuccessfully, thus the need for sunglasses.

The worst part is telling others. The shock, the processing, it's a fresh wound for us with each new person we tell. We feel strong until we tell others. And then we feel weak all over again. And it's ok to feel weak I tell Erin. And I mean it. It's ok.

It is ok.

The thought of telling the kids was crushing.

The thought of wrecking their world with real life hardships, real life emotion, real life uncertainty, is enough to make you feel insane.

And yet, our kids are anti-fragile. Our family is anti-fragile.

Anti-fragile is a term coined by Nassim Taleb.

The more weight you put on the barbell, the stronger you become.

And so, we don't ask for it to be less heavy, we ask to be stronger. We know our kids will be stronger, not because it's easy, but because it's hard. The weight will strengthen them and leave a tattoo of resiliency for their entire lives. It'll be the hardest, and the best thing as they grow up and change the world.

The Lord is our strength. And so for today, we can handle the weight.

Love, the Murrays