Tired and Achy

Yesterday was a challenging day.

And last night was pretty rough.

I pretty much feel like crying.

The injuries from my car accidents that get exacerbated when I'm exhausted and emotionally drained are all sore.

And there is snow.  Everywhere.  In quantities that just won't stop.

So, I'm just going to do my best to put one foot in front of the other today.  Paste on a smile and fake it til I make it real, I think.

I can do this.  Once minute, one breath at a time.

How You Doin'?

I watched a re-run of Friends yesterday, an old episode where Joey is coaching Rachel on how to ask a member of the opposite sex for a date.  His advice was something along the lines of "I just look a girl up and down and go 'How you doin'?'"

I laughed at it yesterday and thought of it today when a friend sent an email asking how I was.

I replied honestly that it has been a "mostly okay" day.

A few minutes after I replied I got a phone call that heightened an uncertainty, a "don't borrow trouble" moment that I'd been working hard to set aside.

And it reminded that this is my reality too.

That right now, even the good, or "mostly okay" days, have the potential to become unbalanced in moments.

I preface any conversation that has even the potential to be emotional (positively or not so much) these days with "Everything makes me cry right now, just ignore the tears."

I've discovered that when that downward swing hits, sometimes it lasts and sometimes I can corral it back into submission.

I've learned that exercising just as that swing hits can sometimes lead to successful corralling of it.  It just means I have to push through the onslaught of the downward swinging mood, and the fact that I hate to exercise.  Even yoga.  I rarely regret the exercise once I've done it, but I wouldn't ever say I enjoyed it (unless we're talking about say, a day walking all over a zoo, or a theme park, or the city with friends).

And I'm learning to trust that this weird emotional place I'm existing in won't last forever.  That as I heal and piece my life together again, it will pass.  And in the meantime, don't mind me - everything makes me cry these days!

Holy Tears

It seemed appropriate to share these thoughts (formulated a little for American Memorial Day today) from Richard Rohr that arrived in my inbox this morning.  Especially given my teary experience at church yesterday.

~~~

As a young novice I only complained to my novice master once. We had to read a different life of St. Francis every month. I could not understand why St. Francis was crying all the time. He even invited Clare to visit and they spent the entire time crying “holy tears.” As a young nineteen-year-old male, this made no sense to me. Back in 1961 my novice master said to me, “you won’t understand it now, Richard, but you’ll understand it later.”

And now I do understand it. Tears can be a gift of the Holy Spirit. At the point when you can’t achieve the game of perfection, all you can do is offer to God who you are today, warts and all. Your willingness to offer your imperfect gift, knowing it will be totally received, brings you to tears—“holy tears.” There are many gifts of tears, however; sometimes you just cry for the pain and suffering of others, even though you yourself are not suffering at all. I am sure most of you have experienced such holy tears, maybe even today when we remember the many who have died so young, so alone, and sometimes so needlessly.

(Richard Rohr)

Daily 5 - Day 290

Today's Daily 5:

1. slept relatively peacefully last night
2. tears in church
3. more emails from a dear friend
4. "you give and take away"
5. time with family

You Give and Take Away

I cried during worship at my dad's church this morning.  I don't think that has ever happened before.  I'm not actually sure I've ever cried during a worship service.  You have to understand that tears don't flow easily for me, even now, all these years removed from depression.

But this morning I cried.

This processing the loss of my job is a weird thing.

Yes, I see it as a blessing.  Yes, it also sucks.

But this morning, I cried.

The line that got me was one from a Matt Redman song that has long been one of my favorites.  It's a song I fell in love with during depression.  A song that somehow echoed the cry of my heart in those times.  The cry that said, "even in these really dark spaces you, Jesus, are still worthy to be praised."  It's a cry that is resonating deeply right now.

But the lyric that drew tears this morning was this:

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name

Because when I started this job, it was very much a gift from God.  And somehow, the ending of it is also very much in the timing of God.  And that is not always easy to reconcile.

And so I stood this morning as my brother led worship, and tried to sing, and settled for simply raising my hands and closing my eyes as tears came.

(Ironicly, if this had been a charismatic church that repeats a song a number of times as God moves through it, I'd have been in big trouble.  I'm fairly certain I would have moved from quiet tears, subtly swiped away as the song ended, to full out sobs, less easy to keep out of the line of view of those around me.)

You give and take away, and still, your name is blessed.

Messy

I think I recoil from being the messy one.

It's ironic, really.  I've advocated for the value of honest and messy for years now.

But I have an aversion to it, too, from all those years of depression.

A learned response to being the person others drew back from.

It wasn't their fault, or mine.  But it was and is hard to remember that.

That it wasn't me they were retreating from, so much as the questions and uncertainties my own issues raised within them.

The questions the seemingly unanswered prayers for help and healing raised.

I know about those questions.  I lived them too.

But it's left me with a seeming aversion to messy.

I get tired of it quickly.

The emotional valleys.  The swinging moods.  The tears.

I hesitate to share it. 

I tell myself that that is out of concern for others.  I'd rather not stir their questions.

But more selfishly, I'd rather others not see my own questions, my own brokenness.

And I fear, too, a return to depression.

I have trouble leaning into, trusting, the promise of Romans, "The gifts of God are irrevocable."

Even my healing.

And I hide.

From myself.

And others.

I'm needing to make peace with messy again.

To remind myself of extenuating circumstances.

To lean into trusting.

To believe that this, too, shall pass.

To hope.

I started thinking about all of this simply because of a stupid goal.

I'd like to go a full day, sometime in the next week, without bursting into sobs.

Because I'd feel more together if I did that. 

Less messy.

Time to reconcile with messy again, apparently.

It's never pretty, but sometimes so necessary.

Daily 5 - Day 258

So, pretty much the last thing I feel like doing tonight is writing a list of any length at all of things that made me smile, or things I'm grateful for.  As days goes, this one really stunk.  Basically none of the things I would have liked to have happen did.  And I got some bad news concerning my car that likely means that I'll be back to having no car within the next week or two, probably semi-permanently (like for the next couple years).  More on that tomorrow, I'm busy trying not to think about it tonight.

So, anyway, these are the good things from today, however many I can scrape up, and actually, a day like this is probably the day it's most important for me to do this exercise anyway:

1. The antacid I took for whatever was going on with my stomach again this morning seemed to work.  I didn't feel good, but I could at least function for the day.
2. It was "pass out paystubs" day at work.  This is one of the best 10 minutes of every two week cycle of work for me.  Everyone is glad to see me on this day.  And I get such jovial thank you's from everyone when I drop off a piece of paper that says there will be money appearing in their bank account the following day.
3. The one thing that worked as planned tonight was I did make it to my hair appointment.  And I have these fabulous new highlights in a couple shades of blond and a coppery red.  And styled hair, which means, whatever tomorrow holds, I'm going to look nice for it.  I'll try and take a picture, or have someone take one for me tomorrow.
4. I got a hug from L. while I sobbed my eyes out in overwhelmed exhaustion after work.
5. I bought a new purse that I'm pretty excited about.
6. I really love my new iphone.  It was so cool to be able to check emails and facebook on the train, and at the mall tonight.
7. Even amidst all the sucky stuff, once I stopped sobbing I was able to just sit and let myself find some perspective, and even some things to be thankful for as life throws me yet another loop.
8. Because I'm having my hair put up for the wedding, my hairdresser just thinned it, and didn't cut it tonight after she colored it.  She recommended leaving it long for the girl who's putting it up.  That means that I have another hair appointment booked for in about three weeks time.  Sweet.  Next to massages, appointments with my hairdresser (and maybe pedicures) are my absolute favorite form of relaxation and pampering.
9. Because I have a medical appointment tomorrow morning, I have the morning off work and can sleep in by about an extra hour and a half.
10. I figured out how to connect my new phone to the free wi-fi in the mall.
11. I realized today that it's only about 2 more months until the U2 concert that I have tickets to!

Overwhelmed and Discouraged

Okay, so, here's the scoop.

I got the final confirmation this morning that I will definitely be moving at the end of February (barring the miracle provision of a roommate in the next two days).  Even though I knew that that news was likely coming, it was sort of the final straw, and I've been bawling off and on ever since.

I seem to have lost the ability I've relied on for the last couple of days to hold it together.

I've known I was likely moving for quite some time, and I'd made my peace with it.

What I hadn't expected was to have to move into a new location without the freedom that having a car provides.

I hadn't talked about it here yet, because it was never my ideal situation, but I was/am looking at moving into my Grandma's basement for a while.  It wasn't the ideal situation because my grandma and I are about as opposite in personality as humanly possible, and I was pretty concerned about having privacy and freedom in that situation.  A car made it a doable thing, not only in terms of freedom, but in terms of the ability to get to and from work conveniently.  Grandma's house is convenient to where I work if I'm driving.

And then Tuesday happened.  And I suddenly don't have a car, or really any prospect of purchasing one in the next couple of months based on my finances.

And so I find myself staring at the reality that the only living situation I can really afford on my own right now is to live at Grandma's.  But that I've lost the vehicle that made living there a seemingly doable prospect.  Living there now, without a vehicle, will mean about three hours a day on city transit.  It will mean that to get anywhere I need to go, I can plan on it taking at least an hour by transit.  To get to my parent's home - a five minute drive - would likely take close to an hour by transit because of the way the connections work.

I don't really know what to do, and I'm feeling like there really aren't a lot of options.  And that all hit home this morning, so I've been busy bawling.

I'm overwhelmed and discouraged, and a bit lonely as well.

(oh and did I mention that even though my parents have been generous in offering to let me borrow a car for short periods of time, right now the idea of getting back behind the wheel is enough to spark panic attacks and a fresh round of tears?)

I'll snap out of it eventually.  I always do.  But, in the moment, I can't stop crying.  (maybe that's okay...)

Thankful it's Friday

I yawned as I wrote the title of this post.

This has been an exhausting week.

I'm very drained - physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually.

And incredibly thankful that it's Friday.

I'm wearing jeans.

I haven't melted down into a puddle of tears (though I've felt like it.)

I phoned the government student loan offices this morning to confirm that a change to my banking information I'd requested be made had gone through.

For the first time in history the government did something right, and quickly to boot.

I'm thankful for that, too, because it means that this weekend I can wrap up this state of being between two different banks, and go back to only having one bank. I like it when projects like that are going to come off my list, and finally be finished. The longer term projects with dozens of little steps. It's always a good feeling to know that one of them is finished.

On Fridays I have lunch with a coworker. I think we're having Wendy's today. I'm looking forward to that grilled chicken sandwich and fries.

I'm listening to Kathy Mattea's "Good News" Christmas Album. Beautiful songs, some original, some not, a lovely progression of songs. It's one of the few Christmas music selections I can stomach for more than about ten minutes.

Did I mention that I'm wearing jeans? And my comfy knock-off "Ugg" boots. Fridays are good for that.

I'm exhausted, and close to tears, but I'm choosing to be thankful right now. Or trying anyway. Because all of those things I've listed, and, I'm sure, a myriad of other things are very positive moments in my life right now.

Point of Tears

I'm tired today.

I've had less of the truly sleepless nights lately, and I sometimes forget what that does to my emotional coping abilities.

And in some ways I'm grieving. Relationships that have changed or ended, but other things too. Seems for the last few months, at least once a week or so, I've gotten terribly bad news from various people I care about. Terminal illnesses and death and other very sad situations.

And today some of those weigh heavy, and I am praying, and near the point of tears.

This post at The Ragamuffin Diva encouraged me this morning. "Rest. Get up. Rest Again. Get up again." That seems manageable today. Sort of at least.

Full Moon

I started and ended my day driving in the dark. Because that's what you get this time of year. Lots of dark. It makes me grateful that I don't live any further north than I do.

And in each direction there was a full moon (or nearly full).

This morning it hung bright, white, glowing in the Western sky. Somehow full of promise.

Tonight it hung low, yellow, and reflective in the Eastern sky.

Tonight the moon seemed strangely full of wisdom, of knowing, as it hung there, and I wanted to cry a little as I stared at it and pondered some of the stranger events of my day.

Tonight it reminded me of people and things and moments. Of people I love. Of people I wish could know love. Of a tiny, stinging moment of brokenness in the midst of the day.

Tonight it stirred regrets and prayers.

This morning it stirred prayers too, but not the kind laced with longing regrets.

Tonight, as I watched the moon and drove, the tears sat just below the surface, waiting to fall.

Morning Again.

So, it's Wednesday. I'm over halfway through the work week since I'm only working a half day on Friday.

I'm still feeling like life is pretty tenuous and rough.

Our receptionist told me this morning that I looked peaceful and relaxed today. And then she knew enough to ask "Are you feeling that way?" The answer is no. But I'm glad I'm at least looking a little better.

Another coworker asked how I was doing. (She was one of the ones who asked a really basic question Monday morning that led to a teary meltdown, and has been checking in on me daily since then.) She wanted to know if I was better or worse. "About the same as yesterday," was my reply. And then we laughed, because, as I pointed out, yesterday was better than Monday. On Monday I was in tears three times before nine am.

This week, leading up to the anniversary I'm acknowledging (and maybe even celebrating) on Sunday, is traditionally hard. It's complicated this year by a number of other factors.

It also never helps that it is the week that leads up to Halloween. I am incredibly sensitive to the spiritual realm, and halloween is not a good thing for someone like that. On Saturday I'll likely be holed up at home, safely tucked away from all that activity.

It's morning again. I'm pondering thoughts surrounding freedom and surrender, and a parable Jesus told. I'm hoping to write some of those thoughts out later, but tonight seems already full with cooking and then the much "loved" trip to the soul-sucking mega store for our weekly grocery purchases.

I'm sipping tea, and wearing a scarf - both feeble attempts at prayer, but ones that I can manage today.

A dear friend succeeded in making me laugh last night when she told me something along the lines of, "You don't need a reason to celebrate. Celebrate every day. Jesus loves you, and he died for you. So snap out of it." (She said it with much love, and while we were chatting online and not with voices, I could "hear" the quirky tone in her voice, and couldn't help but chuckle. I let her know that I was pondering that, and that she'd made me laugh - no small feat at the moment!)

And with that, I need to focus on work for a bit.

Tuesday. Start Again.

I'm feeling minutely restored over yesterday.

An afternoon of sleeping, and a night where I was in bed relatively early (for me anyway) helped a bit.

Focusing on other things is helping too, I guess.

There are big things going on around me and in me, and, to be honest, I'm not quite sure that I know what to do with any of it, and I definitely haven't been coping well.

I'm seeing my doctor later this week to discuss a number of concerns, among them my sleeping issues. I'm expecting to get lectured, because, while the sleep problems have definitely become more of an issue in the last two years, I've been dealing with them for probably about 15 years, quietly, without ever mentioning them, since they were usually sporadic and relatively manageable. I'm also expecting an argument about sleeping meds, since at the moment I'm taking a natural supplement that seems to be allowing me to sleep in increasing amounts, and I'm not crazy about the addictive qualities of prescription sleeping meds.

Sleep is only one of several issues I'll be chatting with my doctor about, in the hopes that if I can deal with some of the physical health issues, I'll be better equipped and have the energy to deal with the emotional and spiritual issues.

So. It's Tuesday. And I'm starting again. Let's just call yesterday a false start to the week.

Today is going better, if for no other reason than I wasn't in tears three times before 10:30 a.m.

I had a cup of passion tea this morning.

I don't have to cook dinner tonight.

I'm considering the purchase of U2 tickets for next summer, to fulfill an item on my "things to do before I die" list.

All of these are smile list type items today.

Some of them are a little bit weak and pathetic, but hey, when joy is hard to come by, I'm going to take it even in weak and pathetic doses.

And be thankful for starting over. I needed that today.

Struggling

I'm not sure what to say right now.

I came home from work at noon, made a few essential phone calls, and went to bed.

I don't have the flu or a cold, but I'm so completely emotionally and spiritually exhausted that I decided to call it a day.

I cried twice in the first half-hour of the day. All it took was for someone to ask me how my weekend was. (For the record, it wasn't bad, though quite hard at moments.)

Several people took one look at me and asked if I was okay.

The answer right now is no.

I'm wrestling with some very large issues, and some very loud voices.

The tears and throbbing pain have numbed a bit just at the moment, but I have no doubt they'll surface hugely again.

I need to make some decisions, but I have no idea how to attempt that. I'm actually scared to do that from this emotional space where I'm not able to process or think clearly.

I'm also staring an anniversary in the face this week. An anniversary that is usually full of hope. I'm not really sure what it holds this year, and in some ways I'm asking if there is anything left to celebrate. And that, my friends, is the most discouraging thought I've faced in the last four years.

I've been trying very hard to hold life together, and it's not working right now. Trying so hard to find the joy and the positives, to change entrenched patterns of thought. And I've had a few successes, but it's exhausting and seems larger than life, and nearly hopeless.

So, I'm going to sit, and cry if the tears will flow, and try to pray. And work to trust that Jesus sees and hears and holds me in this space, and not just in the joyful ones where I am able to perfectly fall in line with his voice.

Evening Thoughts...

This has been the good sort of day.

Not for any particular reasons. Just because.

Joy, even amidst tears.

I'd cried twice before coffee break this morning. Tears that caught me off guard both times. But not the lingering, hovering, exhausting grief that is sometimes there. Just moments of sadness, of deep emotion. And then they passed.

I've never stopped being surprised when the tears come. So many years of depression where they wouldn't flow at all. This last year and a half of challenges, where they came rarely.

I wonder if other people know what a priviledge it is when their tears flow freely? How beautiful that is?

I find the tears surprising and beautiful. They've been coming often these days, and sometimes, I still try to hide them. Hide them because they expose my heart, and the things that touch me deeply, and it is embarrassing in a culture that values solitary strength to cry often and freely. But, in these days, when I don't seem to have a choice, when the tears appear unannounced and flow freely; when they color my voice and redden my eyes, I am learning that it is okay for my heart to be exposed. That most won't reject it when it shows. That even when it is misunderstood, it is still valuable, and that compassion can be beautiful.

So, it was a day filled with joy, sometimes colored by tears.

There was laughter with a friend at work.

And an encouraging (if unfortunately short by necessity) coffee with a long-time friend.

Many questions to ponder.

Vietnamese take-0ut.

A lovely sun set.

I think I'm off to journal, just as soon as I write one more post with the Daily 5.

There is so much going on in me, and in my life these days, so much to process that journaling is starting to feel a bit overwhelming. I'm making it a habit to write, at least something, on a daily basis right now. Often that means grabbing ten minutes first thing in the morning, after I arrive at work, and before the day officially begins to recount the night's dreams, and get them off my mind a bit. I'm needing to remind myself of yet another of the helpful lessons I picked up from Anne Lamott - writing only what fits in a 1" frame. Breaking it down into small assignments. Taking it "bird by bird" as it were.

So, I'm off to tackle just one "bird", one little frame of thought for the evening.

Just as soon as I write the daily 5. This is one of those nights where I think they'll come easily.

The Soap Opera Relief

My roommate has fondly referred to my place of employment for some time now as "the soap opera."

Anyone who knows me well knows that my company has more than it's share of drama for such a small organization, and that we seem to attract all kinds of truly unique characters. Anyone who knows me well will also know that these tendencies have caused a rather high degree of stress in my life, especially over the last two years or so.

Thus, knowing those things, you'll understand why my mom totally cracked up, when, in the midst of a rather serious conversation we were having this evening, I somewhat dryly and sarcastically confessed, "Work was a welcome relief today. It was so nice to just focus on that for a bit and not think about all the other things." My mom, had the context of having phoned me at work first thing this morning, and caught me mid-way into my second meltdown of the day (within the first hour!), over things that have absolutely nothing to do with work. With that context, and her knowledge of all of the drama that my place of employment has encompassed, she found my comment particularly funny.

And it was funny to me too. For that moment we laughed together, before returning to the main conversation which once again had me in tears. The "soap opera" was a welcome relief! In fact, in some ways, that thought, and the memory of the conversation, of drawing that laughter with my tone, is still making me laugh. And tonight I definitely need the laugh!

Rough Day (family, emotions, and choosing to say no)

I woke out of a disturbing dream this morning, surrounding some issues with family, and a deeply personal decision I've been trying to make for the last week or so.

My family is wonderful and I love them deeply, but they can also create a constant struggle within me at times. Mostly because they find my journey with God to be unconventional, confusing, and perhaps even heretical (though I doubt they'd use that word) at moments.

I listened to my mom tonight, as she related to me how she'd heard a speaker at a conference she'd attended the last few days who had deeply challenged her and made her realize how much her upbringing causes her, even still, after many years of healing from the deep wounds of her childhood, to struggle with the idea of works vs. grace, and to lean towards works, and I wanted to scream, "I know! You instilled those same tendencies in me, and I spend my days battling with fear of failure, with the desperate need to measure up because you taught me that. I carry so much fear and shame and panic because of the things you carry, and I'm thrilled you're finding healing and feeling conviction, but I don't know how to handle that, because it just feels like condemnation of the spaces in which I exist."

I know she doesn't intend for it to be condemnation. I know that she is speaking out of love for me and desire to see me live more fully. But it feels at times like condemnation.

A little over a year and a half ago, a deeply personal moment in which I encountered God, a moment witnessed by a few dear friends, was suddenly and carelessly exposed to the world. In all likelihood it's being exposed very soon in a much more broad form. It's initial exposure caused deep hurt and shattering, not only for me, in my sudden exposure, but for some who'd known of the things leading up to it and hadn't been included, and to some extent the shattering that it caused is such that I still feel it very deeply.

I have been praying about the timing of another deeply personal moment that I have felt Jesus inviting me into since shortly after that first moment. This week it became a possibility that the timing could be sometime during these days off. And, to be honest I really wanted this to happen. But I think I'm going to choose to wait. Because of the day I've had, and the dreams. Because exposure of this moment is also bound to happen (based on the number of people who know what I've been praying about), and, while it likely wouldn't be the careless exposure of the first time, it still holds the potential to deeply hurt those whom I love, who would perhaps not understand the choice to go forward.

I'll make the final decision tomorrow morning. And my heart is breaking in the knowledge that putting this off likely means delaying this for at least another year. But right now, right in this moment, as much as I long for it, I think I need to wait.

So, I'm sobbing a little. I'm shrugging, because I'm exhausted and so very not okay. I suppose I'll be okay again at some point, but I'm not right now. I collected a hug from my roommate tonight, who didn't know what to do other than listen a bit and finally just hug me. I think I'm just going to head for bed. Curl up with my devotional book (which has been hitting hard lately too) and my bible. Maybe spend some time in the Psalms. Maybe journal or read. And pray for sleep - because after days like this it is often fleeting and filled with disturbing dreams, and tonight, tonight I'd really like it if I slept dreamlessly, or if I met Jesus in my dreams, but I can definitely do without the disturbing bits.

Tears of the Father

another challenging thought from Henri Nouwen...

The Tears of the Father

The father in the story of the prodigal son suffered much. He saw his younger son leave, knowing the disappointments, rejections and abuses facing him. He saw his older son become angry and bitter, and was unable to offer him affection and support. A large part of the father's life has been waiting. He could not force his younger son to come home or his older son to let go of his resentments. Only they themselves could take the initiative to return.

During these long years of waiting the father cried many tears and died many deaths. He was emptied out by suffering. But that emptiness had created a place of welcome for his sons when the time of their return came. We are called to become like that father.

Conglomeration

I didn't sob when my mom showed up and hugged me.

I did cry again once she left.

I'm probably 60% packed now. The vast majority of my possessions are books, and we packed about 18 boxes worth of those tonight, powering quickly through three large bookshelves and one small one.

In my head I'm feeling less stressed about this move than I was earlier. But the rest of me hasn't caught on yet.

I think we're taking possession of the new place on Wednesday night, and will move a load or two that night, and another load or two on Thursday night.

I follow a blog with photos of Rome, and came across this post the other night. If memory serves, it's taken very near where we stayed in Rome, and, despite the many things that have come from that trip, it was somehow a hopeful thing for me to see. A hopeful memory.

I've also been following my friend LP/CA's updates on her current travels. Looking at her photos and hearing her stories have once again re-awakened my travel itch. I think I'll just tuck myself into her carry-on bag the next time she travels and tag along! Or maybe I'll spring for an airplane ticket!

I'm tentatively hoping to get outside of the city on Sunday, post moving crazyness. I'm feeling the smothering of the city again, and need to find some time alone and away from Calgary for a few hours. I'm not sure George is up to it, but I think I'll head out anyway.

And with that, I think I'm going to curl up for a while and read some Psalms, and maybe journal just a bit. The tears are still flowing every few minutes, and I need to rest. I think I'll be in bed within the hour.

Irony...

I talked with a dear friend for a while last night, catching up a bit, and sharing some of the things I'd been wrestling with lately. It was a teary conversation because of the subject matter, and because some of the things I've been wrestling with and feeling pulled to pray for lately incite a sting within me that brings tears.

I had to laugh, though, at one point, as I looked down at the current book I'm reading, that was sitting beside me as we talked.

I commented to her that it seemed just a bit ironic that in the midst of this rather teary conversation about the places of prayer I've been occupying lately, the title of the book I'm currently reading is "The Happy Intercessor"!

I needed to remember that laugh today, and laugh again. Because laughter at that irony was definitely a better option than tears.