I am going to sit right down and write myself a . . . blog.  (that was a 1935 song by Joe Young- only it was a letter he was going to write.) Most days I mentally write this blog as it is my only way of communicating with you.  Somehow, writing gives me the privilege of connecting with those  I loved deeply but who are no longer in my life–except a ‘like’ on Facebook.  I suppose this says more about me in my old age.  I am in a time warp from those days of ministry focused on people.  And though I am enjoying retirement somewhat, I so miss people, a place and a purpose.

But it is now . . .

Angry thunder wakened me early one morning last week.  Another day of rain, I moaned.  Now don’t get me wrong.  I love rain–have always danced through a rainy Monday morning.

But enough–already. We were drenched. (Today, as I finish this–we are too dry again.)

A few days after that rainy early morning we celebrated  a breath-takingingly summer-like spring day.   But these days have been sandwiched between strong seasonal storms often with  tornadic activity in southwest Tennessee.

I remember the dry prison we endured for months last summer and fall.  This area of Lawrence County begged for rain.  One of the dryest on record, they said.  Five months with only one 30 minute tease of gentle sweet drops.

Like life . . .

Life is most often lived out betwixt the excessives and the enoughs. Between the mundane and the majestic.  We ride a bi-poplar see-saw.

Spring allergies are playing havoc with my happiness. And blueberries don’t make me happy right now!  (see blog-choose happy, maybe, perhaps).
I have been rethinking my happiness definition.  A dear friend called and chided me carefully on that definition. Since then I have been reminded of too many heartbreak stories–people suffering with massive hurts and sadness. Friends losing loved ones.  I wonder that I could ever smile again if Tom were suddenly gone from me.  I understand better the choice debate.

Perhaps a quiet contentment wrapped in simple gratitude is a better response to the difficult days of life.  If it is near impossible for this Polly-Anna spirit to be happy, to find joy  when severe allergies steal her energy, her voice and her eyes, then those that are going through dark nights and heartaches  surely have the choice to be sad.

Yet, one morning last week with swollen eyes, constant sneezing and a generalized terrible outlook, I was granted a sweet moment. A female cardinal landed on the fence outside the kitchen window. In moments, her handsome red husband landed beside her and proceeded to either give her a bite of nourishment or else, he just kissed her!  I so wanted to capture that picture for you. How like God to bring a sweet delight in our misery.  I smiled.  I took joy in that brief simple moment.

My blog sub-title: life found in the moments seems to be a more accurate response to life. It is the moments that matter when life is suffocating all joy from us.   And though, momentarily, it may be impossible to find a delight, they will  surely come–if we look for them.  After my strange, unusual illness last year that lasted eight long months, I promised myself  I would never forget that smiling, happiness, laughter are not always easy or possible.   In my “now health condition”, I am too zealous. And I am sorry that for a moment, I did forget.

Happiness is not frivolity; it is not even pleasure.  Most often it is the pure contentment, the assurance of knowing I am His, and He is mine . . . with gratitude for today.  And that ultimately all will be well.

Hope. . .

How does one survive the bi-polar see-saw without hope in the tomorrows- or even in the now?   Can life be lived without hope? And what is hope without Easter? And what is Easter without the celebration of hope for believers? “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. . .” Hebrews 6:19

So today–in this now, in our severely complicated world,  I search for daily delights; they are new every morning . As I walk in the garden. I listen to His word in the moment.  I hear it in the whispers. I watch ever so closely for the small things.

Have a contented, grateful Easter, filled with the Hope that He is alive and real.