Pushing Through: When the Storm Comes Before the Break
Today’s been a tough one. No way around it—I’m feeling drained, worn out, and just barely hanging on. I had this brief moment, not long ago, where I thought I had dodged the worst of it. My wife and 1.5-year-old daughter were both hit hard with hand, foot, and mouth disease, and I naively believed maybe—just maybe—it might pass me by. But here I am, four days later, bracing for the storm.
It’s been a rough season. Since daycare began, we’ve been introduced to the motherload of viruses—old ones, new ones, and strange hybrids of the two. Some days it’s a mystery: is it the flu? A cold? Both? Add in stomach bugs with symptoms that make you question the laws of biology, and… yeah. It’s been a ride.
Now, of course, this happens just before something I’ve truly been looking forward to: teaching a stone carving course at the Haliburton School of Art + Design. I’ve been prepping for weeks, mentally gearing up to guide and support a group of students who are brave enough to pick up tools and dive into a craft that demands patience and presence. And now I find myself praying for strength—literally. If you’re the type to send a word to the universe or the big guy upstairs, I’ll take all the help I can get. I’d love to be able to talk clearly. Eat real food. Maybe not look like I crawled out of a hospital ward.
But I’ll be there. Tylenol in my pocket. Face covered if need be. Because that’s what we do when we care deeply about something—we show up, even if we’re cracked and aching.
There’s a line I’ve always loved from Cast Away, right after the storm clears and the main character finds himself adrift but still alive:
“And I know what I have to do now. I’ve got to keep breathing because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?”
That’s where I’m at. This feels like the storm. But the tide might just be carrying something good.
So here’s to pushing through. To holding on. To knowing that even when things feel heavy, something better might be just over the horizon. The wind will shift. The stone will be carved. The sun will rise.
