By Paint Her in Color Founder, Laura Spiegel

One of the goals for Paint Her in Color is to help parents celebrate the blessings alongside the battles. I’ll admit that this is particularly hard for me. I’m naturally a glass-half-empty kind of girl, and it takes real effort for me to swat away the negatives in a given situation. They’re like gnats, those pesky thoughts. Just when I think I’ve squashed the last of them, they swarm back darker than before.

Those who meet me in the neighborhood or at social gatherings sometimes comment on my “relaxed” attitude toward life. “You’re so chill!” some remark. “Very easygoing.” But here’s the deal. It’s hard to care about a dinner destination, an outfit, or a theme park itinerary when your mind is otherwise engaged in battle. “What if that guy in the van is a predator?” “What if that trucker falls asleep at the wheel?” “What if my child’s school is next?” “What if we don’t get a cure for my daughter’s cystic fibrosis in time?” “What if the next respiratory exacerbation is the big one?” “What if…”

My worries ride shotgun with me most days. And while I may seem entirely at ease with whatever is happening in any given moment, it’s likely that somewhere beneath the surface, an invisible, unvoiced slew of worries is looming. Brewing. Quietly murmuring, “Who cares about the small stuff when we’ve got THIS to deal with?”

Like many moms whose children have experienced unexpected healthcare diagnoses, my worries tend to center around things outside my control that have the potential to harm those closest to me. The odds of many of these “what if’s” coming to fruition are low. I know that. But when infinitesimally rare things have already happened to your family, you come to realize that 1) rare things can happen and 2) they can happen to you.

But here’s the thing. A life lived in fear isn’t much of a life at all. And the last thing I want to do is raise my two children under a cloak of “what if’s.” I want them to live life to the fullest. To embrace the magic in the everyday. To be informed and cautious, yet bold and confident and hopeful. I want them to lead lives that are bursting with color and well-lived.

And to do that, I have to start with me.

In January, I turned a ratty old notebook into a gratitude journal. When the morning is still, and the house is quiet, I sit down and capture the small moments that have made my heart full. When I’m starting to feel unsettled, I read through my entries and remind myself that despite the talk track my mind would have me believe, I am so very blessed.

My kids watched Dumbo and couldn’t figure out why the circus attendees made fun of the elephant’s big ears. “Who cares?” my son said. “They’re just his ears.”

I held my daughter as she fell asleep and was reminded of her infant breath on my cheek.

My best friend told me about a book called Tattoos on the Heart. It reminded me that God loves us all and that we all deserve love from one another. I laughed and wept and gave it to my mom to read next.

My kids played catch with a football. My daughter said “I’ll just have to keep trying so that I’m not afraid of the ball.”

I asked my son last week if he missed seeing his friends every day. He replied “Sure, but why would be I be sad when I have you guys?”

Today, it’s more important than ever to hold onto these blessings. I get to be with my family. We are healthy and safe. My kids have adjusted to mid-March's abrupt left turn and don’t ask about soccer practice, when they’ll go back to school, or when they’ll be free to roam with friends. Instead, we play nightly games of Sorry. We time each other as we run laps around the yard. We make silly artwork and failed science experiments. We write notes to friends and FaceTime with family.

Of course, I also I do a lot of yelling, and the kids do a lot of fighting. I yell, the kids fight, I swear, the kids fight again, I drink wine, I hide in the bathtub while the kids fight, and the next day repeats itself.

But yesterday, I caught the kids swinging out back together. My son said he wanted to kick up to the sky. My daughter tried to swing away from her shadow. As I watched their faces turn to the sun, I saw two lives brimming with color and laughter and magic.

And I could not have felt more blessed.

Are you working to celebrate the blessings alongside the battles? Email me at laura@paintherincolor.com to ask about writing a guest blog.