Iona woke me up last night around three or four in the morning, distraught and wanting to climb into my bed. She had dreamt our house was burning down and was beside herself with terror.
If there is one thing I know about this girl, it's that you can't pull her back from the edge of an overwhelming emotion by using reason. She believes her feelings, trusts in them. Instead, I pulled my blankets over her, wrapped her in my arms, and chatted with her in my best calm mother voice about the merits of one breed of puppy over another, and what tricks we would teach them if we ever owned one. It didn't take long for the nightmare to shrink back into the shadows of her subconscious.
I thought of this when Justine emailed me the next morning with the offer of a raffle ticket in return for the chance to win some beautiful art. She's helping to raise money in aid of the many devastated residents of Victoria. (If you want a ticket, and I have no idea if she has any left, click this link.)
As pleased as I was to offer some small monetary amount, and lord knows they will need every cent they can get, I still felt more than a little helpless. Homes will be rebuilt, communities restored, one day, eventually. These things I know. Even so, what I really hope for, and cannot offer, are arms to take refuge in when the memory of loss and grief rips them from sleep in the middle of the night, man, woman, and child alike, where everything will be made better.