I consider myself the hopeful sort. When I was a teenager, I wrote the words of Emily Dickinson in my notebook:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.
I consider myself the hopeful sort. When I was a teenager, I wrote the words of Emily Dickinson in my notebook:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.
Fear had me in its claws this week.
I was making dinner and had just called my kids to come eat. My younger son Boone was sitting by the baseboard radiator playing on his phone. He jumped up and took a few steps toward the kitchen counter. Suddenly he fell back, stiff as a falling tree, in a faint, bumping against a table before landing flat on his back. I was terrified, and so were his brother and sister. I’d never seen anyone faint before, and in the few seconds it took him to revive, I imagined a hundred worst-case scenarios.
It was wonderful to hear Marianne Williamson speak at Unity in Chicago! She talked about becoming disciples of love, and about being disciplined in the practice of asking “Am I acting from love or fear?” It’s the only true question, the one beneath all others!
I know I’ve entered the wilderness when my son says, “Dad laughs. You don’t.” It’s true. So we are embarking on our first post-divorce vacation. I’ll have the kids for a solid week, on my own, and I’m scared. I’ve chosen a YMCA family camp in Wisconsin as our destination because at least there will …
Chris was a very sweet guy, and although he wasn’t exactly my type, I was enjoying our conversation over lunch at a Mexican restaurant. When our plates were cleared, he surprised me by reaching over the table and taking my hand. Hmm…I’d never had this happen on a first date, but it wasn’t exactly unpleasant, so I went with it. We made a second date, and when I got in Chris’ car, he immediately reached for my hand.
If you’re like me, you probably spent some time this month laid up in the house with the flu. But I wonder if you, like me, struggle with those housebound days becoming an open house for every fear and doubt you’ve ever had.
Illness seems to hit me hardest in my emotional body. As I lay on the couch with my household falling down around me (my children eating popcorn for lunch and polishing off chewable vitamin C tablets like they were candy, the dog peeing on the floor) I don’t have the strength to keep my thoughts positive.