I’ve had two thought-provoking questions/comments in the last few days.

The first was in response to a comment I left in elgan’s diary about how the holidays can be something quite less than the warm and fuzzy stories told by the media. She was wondering about how they are for people who are grieving or in some way dealing with a tough situation. I shared that this holiday is definitely a mix of the bitter and sweet for me and she asked how I find the joy in the midst of the pain.

This time last year, we were right on the verge of coming out to Arizona to see our family and friends for the holidays. We were especially excited to see those people who hadn’t seen Jasmine post-transplant because she was so different with oxygen added. We had such a great time, and Jasmine really enjoyed her time at Grandma’s and Papa’s, as well as her time at Thalia’s house in Mesa. I particularly remember a conversation with Thalia and her partner, a conversation about Jasmine’s transplant, where I said, “Even if she died tomorrow, I could never regret this time we’ve had with her. She has truly grown into who she was born to be and has crammed a lot into the past nine months.” I had no idea that my words would be prophetic.

This year, the memories of where we were then and where we are now intersect. While I am deeply grieving Jasmine’s absence, I also have bright moments of remembering her joy last year. I can’t dispute what I said — I have no regrets about the transplant and I am grateful for the months we had where Jasmine could breathe free. I am thankful for the memories and Jasmine is still here in her way.

More than that, I am still alive, as are my children, and they never let me forget the delight in this time of year. I am fortunate to be surrounded by little girls who have not forgotten how to laugh and friends who make my days richer. My life goes on, and I prefer to live with fullness and intensity.

However…

The second comment was in my Live Journal in response to yesterday’s post. mystfemme said that my post pointed out “what we do to ourselves when we’re not moving in the direction of our Will (for whatever reason.)”

Oh yes, and while it may seem to contradict what I just said about wanting to live with fullness and intensity, this comment also true. I am not moving in the direction of my Will. When it comes down to it, I’m not really moving much at all — not away, but not toward, either. I need to shake it up because my sense of dissatisfaction is growing, and it’s dissatisfaction with my Self, the worst kind. This ulcer is a wake-up call — there’s a reason it’s happened now, instead of my usual holiday eye-twitch. There’s a reason it’s so intense, a reason it is demanding my attention. Time to refocus, time to rearrange, time to change.

I do my family and Jasmine’s memory no good — in fact, I make a hypocrit of myself — if I don’t make the changes I need to make to follow my Will.

As an aside to my non-Reclaiming friends, this concept of Will is more in relation to my life’s purpose than it is to what I want. A good lesson in life is that what I want is not always what’s best for me. My Will is what I need.