A Blessed Upwelling of Hope

I've spent the last little while in a deep blue funk. It was probably the result of the whole fun 'n' wacky hormone thing (see previous post) combined with a diet consisting mostly of food devoid of any nutritional value whatsoever, among various other bits and bobs of stressors and whatnot. Considering all the emotional baggage that combined to form such a dark cloud over my head, I decided not to write anything during that time. You're welcome.

Now, however, I'm back. I'm wiser, I'm steadier, and I've watched almost the entire six seasons of 30 Rock for those moments that made me laugh out loud. I also spent several days in bed suffering from stomach flu during the Christmas break, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. My beleaguered mind relaxed, which it hadn't done in, well, a very long time. In fact, I got the best idea EVER for my long-pondered book whilst showering yesterday morning.

Showering is almost like being in a sensory deprivation unit. You are, of course, experiencing the sensation of heated water on your skin; but for a mother of six children, slave of three cats, and alpha pack leader of one and a half excitable dogs, it's as close to a place for silent meditation as I'm going to get. If anyone knocks (or scratches, depending on the species), I simply shout that I can't hear whatever it is they're saying over the rush of water. Then I ignore all further attempts at communication while dialing up the heat a notch or two.

Yesterday, however, I bolted out of the shower, hastily threw on some clothes, and ran to the office to capture the idea down before it disappeared into the vast wasteland of my bad memory. It was gratifying when, later, Husband was as enthusiastic about the idea as I was, since he's actually written multiple novels and has a good grasp on the mechanics of creating a viable story arc. I'm not saying it's a New Year's resolution to write that book, but I am saying that I'm really, really grateful for that spark of hope, which was indicative of the overall sense of caring and love I suddenly felt. I like hope. I need hope. When hope is missing, dark clouds converge.

So here's to hope in this new year. Here's to the knowledge that God loves you and can turn even difficult situations into a chance for learning and growth. Here's to joy, which is not merely perky enthusiasm but a deeper sense of purpose and meaning beyond the temporarily pleasurable, mundane, or painful moments. Here's to love, which is the real reason we're all on this earth together. Here's to my triumph and yours. And, of course, here's to pie.