My brother sent me this photograph this week. It's one he took while travelling in Scotland last year. Dark and cold in many ways, but incredibly beautiful as well.
On Wednesday I had a fundraiser to go to. I don't usually go out during the week. In fact I'd gone through three babysitters in order to be able to get out the front door, and at the last minute Mr Large kicked a football through our front window smashing it into spectacular smithereens.
Keeping my voice calm (and resisting the urge to yell loudly at him) I asked him to get me the tape. I knew I'd need to  measure up the window to give the correct details to the Insurance Company.
He rushed off and returned white-faced seconds later, thrusting the sticky tape at me.
My sweet boy.
His hopeful little face that I'd be able to repair the damage done by sticky tape. And sheer relief I hadn't yelled at him, even though I'd really wanted to.
Having established that someone would be out shortly to repair the window I shot out the door. While driving I thought about how late I was and feeling increasingly edgy.
The fundraiser itself is for a cause dear to my heart. Within minutes of arriving I'd calmed down and wandered the room looking at the silent auction bids. Then the speakers were introduced.
The Doctor was first. She warned the parents of the children in the room that this would be hard for them to hear and to hold on while she did.
And she spoke.
I wiped tear after tear as she spoke passionately about the children she works so hard with.
I cried as I looked across the room at a mum who wants her daughter to live a long and happy life.
A mum who is running across the Great Wall of China in a half marathon to raise funds so other parents and families don't have to suffer the same way. Three fellow school mums are joining her in what is considered the toughest run in the world.
For reasons I can't discuss further I know too much about Cystic Fibrosis. It is a cruel and gruelling condition. It turns the lives of families and sufferers upside down.
But listening to a father of three with CF speak about his life journey, which included 2 lung transplants it struck me. It's perspective and the one we choose to have.
The Doctor was there to fight it.
The Mother was there as an advocate.
The Sufferer is Living while living with it.
The broken window is repairable. The petty small stuff we sweat over? It's rubbish.
What's important is how we choose to see things.
Like the photo above there is darkness so much of the time, but the light and beauty is what makes it bearable.
Standing in that room that night surrounded by people who took the time to be there, to cheer those mums on and to donate towards the work they're doing made me smile. Ordinary people doing extraordinary things.