Meet the healing clock

This masterpiece was built by my father-in-law and arrived today. The thing I didn’t know, until today, is that this was made during his own battle with cancer — which I hasten to add — he’s beaten and is thankfully and gratefully in remission.

We spent yesterday celebrating this good news and more and when they left, my inlaws, I put my head in my hands and cried as Oprah would call it, the ugly cry.

I saw so clearly in my mind Skye’s Dad toiling as he made the Healing Clock — battling his demons and his health and his strong desire to let nothing be left unsaid. His wood would become his words.

I sat last night trying to make sense of my tears and the immensity of my feelings — I’m not one to be taken by ‘things’ — I’m the one for time well spent. But this ‘thing’ is something I’ve never experienced to be honest. It feels like hope and faith and love. In real life.

I think that we all have our craft, be it words, wood, food, fashion, gardening, growing, cooking, building and everything in between its an expression of who we are, outside of ourselves. And it’s key. It tells our stories and stories make the world go round.

Let’s keep crafting my loves. Lets write, bake it, plant, paint and make it. It tells our stories, it tells us who we are and it weaves us together. And together is what we are.

We can do hard things. I love you, bye.