A few days ago, something changed. I decided not to enter another year, afraid. Though to be honest, it still feels quite daunting. So, here goes....
Today- ten years ago, I found out that I was pregnant with my first child, a daughter named Davia Juliet.*
Tonight- eight years ago, she passed away.
And I was left with a choice. I had to audibly and physically choose to continue to love, in spite of the very real and very horrible risk that comes along with loving and being loved. I had to allow beauty to permeate my soul again. It took time and for some time, I felt no joy and saw no beauty.
Since that time I have grown, given birth again and adopted four older children. Yet, all the while, fear has been lurking in the background. Fear of losing someone dear to me, fear of this unknown and very temporary earth, but most of all the fear that perhaps all I have to share... is not enough. That it will be like dust in the wind.
It dawned on me, during the last year, that this bondage to fear has stolen my joy.
So, tonight despite the fact that my artfire shop pictures will not load and my head hurts from crying and that I am not really ready to present my naked thoughts and my art to the world....
Here I am.
I am Sandi. I am an artist. I make piles instead of cleaning. I am not a trained seamstress. And regrettably, I could not save my daughter's life eight years ago. I love buttons and fabric and beads and thread. I love rainstorms and laughter and I think that it matters that I'm still here with you, creating and loving.
I would love to share my art and my story with you.
Feel free to journey with me.
Tonight: I take back the joy I lost and I begin to share again what I make and what I do and who I am.
Goodnight to you. And to my Davi..I miss you.
I pray that by living on purpose, I honor you, my lovely daughter and our Father who made us and knit us together, ten very short years ago.
Thank you, my friends.
Here we go!
~Sandi
*(pronounced:Dah-vee-ya)
