This One Point

I am aware of repeating waves of emotional extremes. Often I feel panicked. I want to run and hide, to another country maybe; I even checked the expiration date on my passport- almost as if this reality might be escaped if I could just do something- quick enough. Then other times I feel a quiet peace, almost hopefulness, in an awareness that since I must create a new construct for the future, I might as well create a cool positive one.

What an outrageous set of extreme emotions in one day. From stumbling and crying and snotting through wood-hauling, in my now-familiar stunned state (it's the way I am when a dose of the reality prescription hits me), crying great streams of tears and wailing embarrassingly, bent over in the back yard, to the breathtakingly sweet moments I spent watching Stephen tenderly care for and play with his little girl at his house (while the Saints won the NFC championship in overtime.)

I have lost a treasure and I will not be comforted this loss. But I also still have treasures. I have friends and family who give and pray and share and work and who are bright and generous and creative and loving and fun. I have a job that allows me to hang out with eleven and twelve year-olds and teach them science all day. How cool is that?

I have a warm house and the ground under it doesn't shake. There are no bombs falling in my town. I am not hungry. Of all the women in the world, I am one of the fortunate ones.

Dear God, please remind me of my blessings when my eyes open in a few hours, on a Monday dawn, and my heart's ache begs to stay in bed with a box of tissues.

xxoo