Laura, these words are on fire, sizzling, alive. I can’t get enough of these essays. What a gift to witness how you are being met in the dark. Thank you for being one of my multiple sources of light in the depths 💛
O Laura, I feel so comforted when I get a mail and you are writing it. Your life is porous enough for the Light to always shine through - it is a holy labour indeed!
This piece on caves brought me through a quick succession of emotions: regrets at not visiting the Mammoth when I lived in KY, faint memories of the caves i visited and the discoveries there, and finally Plato's cave! The caves I missed, the ones I endured, the one that is pretty much our lives -- still ruminating, but one thing is sure. Caves make me crave the light!
Beauty for beauty. Jenni, your words echo the loveliness of Laura's right back. Sorry for eavesdropping on your comment. But couldn't help it. Your comment was as piercing as Laura's, as always, riveting post.
I'm no lover of caves. They scare more than entice me. But your words, especially about Plato's cave being all of life, and of course, Laura's too makes me wish I did.
Plato's cave! Yes, I thought back to my philosophy 101 class several times while writing this. Love what you say about the discoveries waiting for us in caves and how they simultaneously make us crave the light: beautiful.
“The darkest spaces can become the most sacred. Be not afraid. I am with you.
If this promise was given in the light, will it not carry us through the dark?”
Laura, there is so much beauty and courage in each piece you write. Thank you for sharing your journey so vulnerably and beautifully.
This line really hit me. Yes, the darkest places of our sufferings can become the most sacred--our journeys and sufferings are very different but I can attest to the truth that it is in those depths of suffering that we can encounter the sacred uniquely--the deepening union with our spouse, the encounter with Jesus, the companionship of the Blessed Mother--all of these I’ve found this summer as I grieve a late first trimester miscarriage. In the darkness of grief I’ve found goodness and God’s presence.
Thank you for your courage and wisdom. Many prayers for you always.
Thank you so much, Lenore. And prayers for you too, in the darkness of grief. Such a hard and holy place. I think the connections between caves and wombs are undeniable (and probably part of why I am so drawn to them).
It is a wonderful meeting with your essay, Laura. All the glory were embedded in between wording, and all the beauty were gushing out in the voices of my head while reading silently.
Is the publication of Jay’s journal and letters available to the public anywhere? My childhood best friend had Ewing’s Sarcoma and died at 10. Even at 10 (of course?) she mourned all the things she would never do, and she had to come to terms with her death. I’d love to read Jay’s story too.
Helen, what a connection. Ewing's is so rare and yet I encounter other stories of it all too often. My parents published the book privately, but they always stock up on copies to give away. If you would like to read it, drop me a line at laura@laurakellyfanucci.com and I will send your address to them!
i can’t get over the gift you have for writing and deep thinking 🩷 also, just reading those few sentences about that long crawl made me feel incredibly claustrophobic 😅
Your writing is beautiful, Laura. Thank you is all I can muster after reading that essay. (Look up Lewis and Clark Caverns in Montana. You would love it.)
I absolutely love your description of caves as places that hold the known and unknown depths of experience-- and the reminder that we do not go alone. Thank you!
Laura, these words are on fire, sizzling, alive. I can’t get enough of these essays. What a gift to witness how you are being met in the dark. Thank you for being one of my multiple sources of light in the depths 💛
Thank you so much, friend. Right back at you.
O Laura, I feel so comforted when I get a mail and you are writing it. Your life is porous enough for the Light to always shine through - it is a holy labour indeed!
This piece on caves brought me through a quick succession of emotions: regrets at not visiting the Mammoth when I lived in KY, faint memories of the caves i visited and the discoveries there, and finally Plato's cave! The caves I missed, the ones I endured, the one that is pretty much our lives -- still ruminating, but one thing is sure. Caves make me crave the light!
Beauty for beauty. Jenni, your words echo the loveliness of Laura's right back. Sorry for eavesdropping on your comment. But couldn't help it. Your comment was as piercing as Laura's, as always, riveting post.
I'm no lover of caves. They scare more than entice me. But your words, especially about Plato's cave being all of life, and of course, Laura's too makes me wish I did.
Plato's cave! Yes, I thought back to my philosophy 101 class several times while writing this. Love what you say about the discoveries waiting for us in caves and how they simultaneously make us crave the light: beautiful.
“The darkest spaces can become the most sacred. Be not afraid. I am with you.
If this promise was given in the light, will it not carry us through the dark?”
Laura, there is so much beauty and courage in each piece you write. Thank you for sharing your journey so vulnerably and beautifully.
This line really hit me. Yes, the darkest places of our sufferings can become the most sacred--our journeys and sufferings are very different but I can attest to the truth that it is in those depths of suffering that we can encounter the sacred uniquely--the deepening union with our spouse, the encounter with Jesus, the companionship of the Blessed Mother--all of these I’ve found this summer as I grieve a late first trimester miscarriage. In the darkness of grief I’ve found goodness and God’s presence.
Thank you for your courage and wisdom. Many prayers for you always.
Thank you so much, Lenore. And prayers for you too, in the darkness of grief. Such a hard and holy place. I think the connections between caves and wombs are undeniable (and probably part of why I am so drawn to them).
It is a wonderful meeting with your essay, Laura. All the glory were embedded in between wording, and all the beauty were gushing out in the voices of my head while reading silently.
Thank you, Tatiana. Grateful to have you reading along.
Oh I do love caves! Three people and three sources of light - what advice for our metaphorical caves as well.
Isn't that fantastic? My jaw dropped at that line when I heard it: some metaphors just show up for us, served up on the perfect platter!
Wow. Incredibly powerful what you have done here. I’m so moved. A single tear slips down my cheek by the time you’ve landed this one.
Thank you so much, Wendy.
Is the publication of Jay’s journal and letters available to the public anywhere? My childhood best friend had Ewing’s Sarcoma and died at 10. Even at 10 (of course?) she mourned all the things she would never do, and she had to come to terms with her death. I’d love to read Jay’s story too.
Helen, what a connection. Ewing's is so rare and yet I encounter other stories of it all too often. My parents published the book privately, but they always stock up on copies to give away. If you would like to read it, drop me a line at laura@laurakellyfanucci.com and I will send your address to them!
Thank you, Laura! I just sent you an email.
Beautifully put into words, Laura! You and Jay had a special bond and I know he is with you every step of your journey.
Thank you so much, Sarah!
i can’t get over the gift you have for writing and deep thinking 🩷 also, just reading those few sentences about that long crawl made me feel incredibly claustrophobic 😅
Thank you, Francine. And I agree: I was freaking out right alongside the radio host. I love caves, but not like that!
Your writing is beautiful, Laura. Thank you is all I can muster after reading that essay. (Look up Lewis and Clark Caverns in Montana. You would love it.)
Ooo I would absolutely love to go there. On my list!
I absolutely love your description of caves as places that hold the known and unknown depths of experience-- and the reminder that we do not go alone. Thank you!
Thank you, friend. So grateful for your words.
This is so beautiful! Thank you. 🙏
Thank you, Julie!