True friends accept us in the midst of our messiness, and today’s story shows how I learned this.

This is the last in my series on grief and it ends with a showcase of artwork – the fruit of a painful yet beautiful season.

When I came back to Canada, overwhelmed by the weight of what I’d just been through, I was afraid to let people see me as I was. I was afraid they’d judge me.

But I discovered I was underestimating the people in my life and I was underestimating myself.

I’m not saying I have it all figured out – I look back and see many mistakes I’ve made. But I have learned something of value that I believe can help you. This excerpt from my journal was written on the one year anniversary of our arrival in Canada (one year after packing up and saying good-bye to a lifetime in China). It gives a glimpse into how I made this discovery.

When I step out my door I feel the mist of light rain on my face and as the fog dissipates, I see deep snow in the distance, on the peak of Mt. Baker. I’m greeted by a neighbour who says hello and his friendly dog whose wet footprints follow me home.

I’m not at the lake anymore. I’m in the city.

But I think back to those healing days at the lake and I’m grateful.

From my spot at the window, I’d look across the long stretch of lawn, feeling the weight of A Hundred Good-Bye’s, grieving the life I’d left behind. I watched eagles catch wind under their wings, soaring, playing.

Could I find joy in the midst of the storm, as they so obviously did?

Or, was the weight of my pain too much. Did it separate me from what I longed for – wholeness, connection, hope?

“Take the time you need,” said a friend.

“Can I give you a hug?” asked another.

“I’m so glad you’re back.”

Some said more. They shared from their own hearts and I remembered, I’m not the only one with wounds.

I remembered that to be a friend means to be a part of not just the joys, but even the pain.

I underestimated the people I was long separated from. The people who once again have become a part of my life. I feared they couldn’t accept me in the midst of my messiness.

And I underestimated myself.

Yes, I had to walk a hard path in pursuit of healing but the soaring of the eagles, the motion of the paintbrush in my hand and the kind words of a friend became my guides.

I thought I would never recover from A Hundred Good-Bye’s. I was right and wrong at the same time. I carry their weight. But what I couldn’t see then was it’s the weight of gold, the richness of life with friends – those who accept me, broken as I am.

Crossing the ocean, one year ago, leaving one home and returning to another, I discovered something I didn’t expect. The same acceptance that bonded me to friends in China was awaiting me here, in Canada.

Bear Mountain Gallery

Beauty can be born out of pain. Leaving China meant entering a time of grieving, as you’ve seen in my writing. But if we hadn’t said Good-bye to China, we wouldn’t have had the months at Bear Mountain.

If we hadn’t had the months at Bear Mountain, there would be no Bear Mountain gallery.

Follow the link below to view ‘Bear Mountain’ Gallery – a collection of artwork that came out of our healing days at the lake.

We all need connection and acceptance. And when we find a friend who offers acceptance in the midst of our messiness, we know we’ve struck gold!

Did this story bring to mind a time when someone special helped you through hardship? I’d love to hear about it in the comments below.

And I hope you visit my newly released ‘Bear Mountain’ Gallery to view the collection of artwork that came out of our healing days at the Lake House at Bear Mountain.