Yesterday was terrible, and that's really all I want to say about that. But I will add how remarkable it is that a day full of hope can also be a harrowing day of stress and high octane anxiety. And surprising anger. We made it to Lexington after midnight. I cried a little when I finally found myself in Lisa's arms. I did not go inside of The Little House. Instead I came to Lisa's, which is home in every sense of the word to me. Or maybe Lisa is home. I'm not sure, but it really doesn't matter.
Despite my many blessings, I ended up crying myself to sleep. And isn't that how life is? Joy mingles with sorrow, and often we feel sorrow most deeply. I finally fell into a fitful sleep around four a.m. I woke up at six.
And here I am, in this quiet house, where the only sound I hear are crickets outside and the soft din of appliances. The sun is rising on W Third Street, washing the sky in baby blue. Like it always does, light dawns. God hears my prayer, "Lord, I'm sorry," and the other prayers I whisper in this morning, prayers like, "Lord, I'm thankful." Mercy was already waiting for me when I rose, and I'm sitting with her, and a cup of tea, and you.
I am thankful for this morning. Today I am 45 years old. I have far too many gray hairs to be such a sprightly lass, and too many wrinkles around my eyes. Don't get me started on my mid-section and epic behind. There are many years of failure behind me, but mercy has a short memory and bad eye-sight. She doesn't remember my faltering years, and all she can see is my contrite, but grateful heart, and she finds it so very beautiful to behold.
Most years I think about the little treats I want for my birthday. I drop massive hints, and I give to myself as lavishly as my budget will allow. But I have everything I want this chilly September morning. It's hard to even imagine anything lacking. This year for a treat I think I'll simply wear my dress with the butterflies--the one I wore to the Christy Awards. I'll make an effort to remember to watch more sunrises, and savor more moments, be they perfect, or imperfect. I'll spend as much time as I can with mercy; she's a good teacher, and lovely companion. And most of all, I'll trust in the Lord; not in myself, and certainly not in my own righteousness. And I'll say "thank you," when it is proper to do so.
Thank you for sharing this life and journey with me, and the new mercy God grants just because it pleases Him to share them with us every single morning.
I love you so.