They say it takes a village.

I don’t know who gave them the authority to say such things so nonchalantly. As if it isn’t difficult to find, cultivate, and be a village with those around you.

Capacities are limited. Everyone has difficulties in their lives. It takes great vulnerability to ask for help. Rejection cuts deeper when you open yourself up to the possibility of more.

But it does take a village.

That village ebbs and flows. The people who choose to walk alongside you may change as every season of your life unfolds. Some may surprise you immensely, and you are humbled. And so incredibly grateful.

Pour into your village. Give of yourself even when you aren’t sure you’ll get anything back.

Remember that everyone’s load is heavy, and we are all just doing the best we can.

I am not ready for you to be this heavy.

I wish I could carry you forever.

I am not ready for more equipment. Insurance covered a hydraulic hoyer lift for you, and we received it a few months ago. We got a brief tutorial on how to use it. It has been sitting in the corner of your bedroom, unused, ever since. Part of the reason is we have to re-think and re-arrange the set-up of your bedroom before there is space for it to be stored in an accessible, ready-to-use spot. The bigger part of it is I am not ready. I don’t like the idea of it. I don’t want to need it.

The van. oof. This van modification. I have never had more anxiety over something you have needed since open heart surgery in 2016. I am struggling with trusting the process, I am struggling believing that it will all work out, I am struggling with the ridiculous expense. I hate asking for help. I am beyond uncomfortable with the gofundme and the news story. It all makes me want to pull the covers over my head and come out when I no longer feel so vulnerable and exposed. If ever you wondered if I’d really do anything for you, I hope this evidence is sufficient.

I don’t want to wish to rewind your life, because I am so thankful you are here and thriving at almost nine years old. But a part of me wants to go back to when you were small, when the day-to-day was just a little easier.

But was it? I struggled back then with things that are easy and commonplace now. I think I just need to accept that I will always struggle with change and the unknown and limbo, and our life will always have an added level of difficulty to it.

And an added level of joy.

Because that’s it, isn’t it? It’s the yin and yang of the life we live.