As I sit here trying to write I type, delete, retype, and hit delete again. I realize I have no idea how to write about the gifts life brings when your world is on the verge of falling apart, without first taking you through the blows life is currently throwing at our family – that isn’t where I want to go. It’s not that I am afraid to get personal with you. It’s just that I want this column to be about the love, kindness and hope life brings into our darkest moments.

  I want to write about the woman I sat with on the floor outside of the Neurosurgical Intensive Care Unit at Beth Israel Hospital. Or about another woman I met at the hospital when I got off the elevator on the wrong floor. She came back to Beth Israel almost one year to the day after her fiancé died to sit beside her friend who was recovering in the same room her fiancé left when he went to the ICU for the last time. I want to write about the spiritualist who said that she would “hold the space” for me, because she knew her being there in my stead was the only thing that would allow me to leave the ICU. Or about the Rabbi I got to have a bite with because his family chose to honor the Sabbath at the hospital so that they could be with his mother-in-law.

  Why can’t I figure out how to write about the gifts we shared with one another? I wonder, will I ever be able to convey my thoughts in this month’s column? Then, like the divine magic I know only comes from the Creator of all, Amy Purdy’s Camry commercial comes on and I stop hitting delete.

  I watch Amy embrace the gifts life is giving her after she got up from the blow that took both her legs. She runs as she trains for the iron man, dances like she did on Dancing with the Stars, and stops at the top of the mountain before her snow board takes her towards what might be another Paralympic medal. Then I hear it. There in the midst of a car commercial, I learn how I am going to write about embracing the gifts that come from life’s biggest blows, without having to drag you through some of our darkest moments.

  There in the midst of Amy’s Camry commercial I hear “When its dark outside you can see the stars,” and I know what this column needs to be about. It isn’t about what our family is facing. It isn’t even about the small miracles and divine connections I am trying to write about.

  This column is about how our darkest moments open us to the light that comes from kindness, love, and hope. It is a small “thank you” for helping your families see the stars that shine in their darkest moments, and a prayer for you. If life ever brings you more than you think you can handle, I pray that you walk – no, run – towards the light that comes from giving and receiving kindness, love, and hope!

  Someday I will share how our family’s work and our poems “Merry Christmas From Heaven” and “A Gift From Heaven” brought me to the floor in front of the Neuro ICU, out of the elevator on to the perfect wrong floor, and smack into the spiritualist that would later hold the space for me. Today I pray that you will give thanks for all the moments that kindness, love, and hope have brought light to your world when you needed it most. I look forward to your thoughts. Please give me a ring at 781-331-5308, email me at Kristan@mooneytunco.com, or even better join the conversation on the Let’s Chat blog.