A Layne Post

Her smile, a head tilt, a little laugh.

I’ll be honest, nothing we were saying was funny or light. But with her chin held high she said, “I am going to die in style.” I shook my head, grinned, and assured her that I had no doubt.

Her courage astounded me. I breathed deep, being present for that holy moment.

We talked about legacy projects, about cards for her children. We talked of hard things… necessary hard things to make space for future beauty.

Silence lingered for just a bit and, rubbing a piece of grass between my fingers, I looked over at her and told her how glad I was to have known her, to have had this time with her.

I don’t always get that chance.

I slapped my thigh and told her it’s time to make lunch. She stood to hang her clean and dripping clothes.

Holy moments in the middle of the ordinary.

Sitting on the porch later that day Jon and I reflected on how many sacred conversations have been had sitting on these sidewalks of Casa Ahavá.

These past couple of months have been difficult for me emotionally and spiritually. The suffering and death this year at Casa Ahavá is heavier, closer together. I just couldn’t catch my breath. All felt dark, all bad, all hard. I pulled back some, leaned on Jon and my community.

Thankfully I can feel my lungs filling up. I am reconnecting. I’m remembering why I love what we do.

Today I sat in a room and had some good belly laughs with two ladies.

Holy… smack dab in the middle of the hard and the ordinary.

To our supporters, I am ever grateful for your prayers, your financial support, your love for my family, and your compassion towards our dear patients. I really believe so much in this project of ours and yours.