Aglint of gold caught my eye, something shiny tucked down in the shag carpet of our guest room-slash-office. Aha! A thin necklace belonging to our oldest daughter (the married one), proof that for several days prior our house had twittered with the happy bedlam of an extended-family visit . . .

Days sprinkled with the babbles and cries of our twenty-month-old granddaughter, Livi. Meals and messes made. A goofy role-playing murder-mystery toga party that carried on until 2:30 a.m.; by then, none of us cared who had committed the crime. And by the way, it’s remarkable how pompous men can become when draped in nothing but an old sheet. 🙂  All surrounded one central event, the main reason for their visit: our youngest daughter’s high school graduation.

The road leading to this milestone was no red velvet cake-walk, let me tell you. So the celebration was real. I once wrote about feeling tempted to despair, but otherwise I haven’t yet said much about those dark days and the horrors we thought might never end. Whether or not she graduated on time became the least of our worries as her illness, which affected her mentally, frightened the bejeebees out of us for over two years.

I wrote a commentary about how this experience changed my perspective on everyday achievements we take for granted–like graduations. It appeared last week in our hometown newspaper. It’s the most personal, most transparent article I’ve ever had published, and I want to share it with you. For some of you parents, this might be your untold story. You see, we’ll never hear from you to know.

You’re too busy being a hero to someone.

Since the article went public, I’ve received some warm-and-fuzzy emails from neighbors and strangers. None touched me more than a note from a mom raising five kids, two of them autistic. She said, “I’ve never spoke of these feelings to anyone but there they all were written in your article.” Yeah, I cried.

You can read the article here.

Is this your story too? If so, have you seen how, in God’s hands, your adversity can become his art? Not yet? Hang in there, friend; it’s coming. You may not feel like it; you probably feel more like a forgotten slip of a necklace crushed into the carpet, with a monstrous vacuum varooming toward you. But you are not invisible. You’re golden. A masterpiece in the works. [bctt tweet=”You are not invisible. You’re golden. A masterpiece in the works.” username=”KitTosello”]

Anyway, now that all the merrymaking in honor of our daughter’s healing + graduation has passed, Livi’s toys sit silent again, awaiting her return like Woody waited for Andy in Toy Story. And I realize I’m painfully behind schedule on several fronts. Most pressing is an inspirational book I’m editing, a project that now consumes my every waking moment–except when I stop to gather snacks, of course (send Ginger Chews!).

{Confession: I’m singularly focused to a fault. If you live in my house when I’m under deadline, you’d better have a car and an ATM and know how to drive to the market, or you. will. starve.}

But what I’m actually doing right this moment, in writing this, is jumping off the conveyor belt of my life to throw heavenward another broken hallelujah. Thank you, Father, for healing my girl. And now that she’s better, I praise you that I’m able to fill my hands with productive work. May I be an instrument of your peace.

Again, here’s the link to the article. Thanks for reading! I’ve prayed for you today!

Livi says “Hallelujah, my auntie is healed! And she has a diploma to boot.”

Often I link up with other blogging communities. Today I want to point you to Holley Gerth. If you haven’t happened upon her writing yet, you’re in for a treat.

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