life is {often} beautiful

{{mom's glorious roses!!}}

Today was my fourth day without feeling anxious or fretful, and it has been glorious.

I woke up on Monday after another fretful night of restless dreams, and my first thought, as always, was of the guy friend and what lies ahead for us - followed shortly afterward with weary thoughts about work and nervous thoughts about the research projects that are coming up quickly. I thought of my friend who had just lost her baby, another whose son just left the NICU, a friend who is very ill and could die. The elections are weird, the news is depressing, life is heavy and exhausting. For weeks, my mind has been closed down with a dark fog of fear, worry, obsessive thinking, and dragging depression - as has, sadly, been quite evident in my blogging.

But Monday afternoon, I picked up a biography of J.R.R. Tolkien, and lost myself in his rich descriptions of war, Christianity, mythology, and the great spiritual battle of the universe; and when I emerged, the fog had cleared and my pounding heart had calmed.

I am a dreamer, a wielder of imagination; and I want to use my power for brightness and holiness, not darkness and fear. I want to be like Tolkien - clear-sighted and realistic, but remembering that ultimate victory is assured and Light will finally win out over darkness; and for that reason, I should always have hope.

***

Work is going beautifully. They think I hung the moon, and I'm not arguing.

The research project may not even happen, if all goes as I hope.

The guy friend and I are still talking occasionally. Audacious, stupid hope still blooms alongside the deep-rooted certainty that all will be well no matter what happens.

The precious baby whom my friend thought she had lost? He LIVES by God's grace and his life-journey is just beginning.

The little guy who just left the NICU is hearty and growing and nursing.

The friend who could die walked from the hospital to his own car this afternoon.

***

Things can and do go badly and our wishes can be crushed, certainly. People and dreams do die. And the fog and weight of anxiety and depression can cloud and pull down the best of us no matter how hopeful we may be inside.

But sometimes it's easy to feel like God's will is this inexorable, iron machine that is going to march forward and crush our wishes and hopes underneath it unless we make sure we're marching in its direction. And that's not a truthful picture of how our God works. His will is ultimately inexorable, but He is no heartless tank driver; He is our loving Father who leads, carries, or lovingly drags us along the path toward being changed into the image of His Son. He knows that we are fragile, frightened, and terribly limited in what we can understand; but He doesn't roll His eyes in frustration and shove us forward along the rocks, He puts His arms underneath us and helps us walk, and soothes our fears with the promise that He will get us home safely.

Father, I'm sorry for helping to dig myself into a pit of fear and not turning my eyes upward to You - thank You for freeing me from the darkness, and thank You that You will do so when I fall in again, and again, and again. Thank you for the sunshine and hope that You have set before each of us, and thank You for winning the victory over darkness and sin!