The last two days I’ve been laid even lower than normal by some difficult emotions. Empathetic angst goes straight to my poorly body, and even my zombified existence is harder than usual. Where on earth to find hope? But also during these two days, hope has been grounded in friends joining me in prayer for someone I love, and in the wonderful person to whom the above feet belong (he hates having his photo put up anywhere, so this is all of him I could get). He comforted me and said all the right things, reminded me that my empathy and general wobbly nature goes along with my creativity, and did not laugh when, as the radio got to a crescendo in Holst’s Mars, I stumbled into the kitchen after an extra sleep, my hair all over the place, my pjs askew, looking very unlike the god of war, to announce that the cat had been sick. This is how we do spiritual warfare in our house. He was and is just generally a great shoulder to lean on. I feel blessed in him, and his survival against great difficulties, and his tenacity and bad-ass stubbornness inspire me to hope. This, on top of his ability to somehow continue to support West Ham, show me there must be something worth hanging onto.
Photo and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017