As I write, Hurricane Irene is fizzling out, southerners are accessing the damage, and northerners will soon be following in their footsteps. We are far enough North that only the storm’s outer bands have reached us. The wind outside my home is blowing branches and hurling raindrops. But in spite of the gray skies, the chime on my deck rings a beautiful tune, a soothing, harmonious melody.

Such is life. The good, the bad, the ugly, the indifferent…they coexist, sometimes running parallel, and sometimes colliding head on.

When a fire destroyed every shred of the business my family and our friends had toiled seven years to build, nothing was left but black, charred ash and mangled metal. And then there was this gem: The glaring fact that we had decided against moving our family (or anyone else) into the building’s empty second story.

After my son’s unexpected death, it seemed as if I would forever be motherless, as if I were perpetually gasping for air, as if an elephant were sitting on my chest, as if the whole world held me responsible. And then there were my salvations: Friends and family and acquaintances who put aside their fears of death to listen, and time, time that seemed so endless in grief, and yet, time that afforded me knowledge and clarity and perspective and peace…

When an undiagnosed, long-untreated depression finally caught up with me, nothing was left but a black hole in my chest, a self-loathing that entwined my internal organs, a fear and shame that had become my outer skin. And then, there was the beautiful, artful nature of growth and learning, a talented psychiatrist with whom I was lucky enough to find and then trust, the powerful effect of a low-dose antidepressant, and, again, friends and family…

When I discovered that my husband and my best friend had been having a year-long affair, my heart felt as empty as my womb had after my son’s death, shame and fear and doubt and self-loathing found their way back my remaining organs. And then there was this, the fetus filling the space in my womb, breathing and kicking and counting on me to bring him into the world six weeks after I uncovered the adultery, and again, friends and family and my counselor…

It matters not what threatening situation we face, there is always a silver lining if we are willing to see it. And, speaking of perils, the sanctuary from which I now write is featured over at Pauline Gaines’ blog, perilsofdivorcedpauline. In the midst of dealing with a filthy rich, scheming and vengeful ex-husband, Pauline has put together this wonderful place, Blogger Space, where she showcases the rooms from where others write. Despite the hardships she deals with day in and day out, Pauline has found a pretty side of peril…

Soon…