beautiful day

my former cynic self would start this post with: i should have known this hopefulness experiment would run aground in short order.

the new hopeful self tries to reframe it: everyone has gross days, and weather and hormones and stress can make it hard to maintain 'happy'. the important thing is how you think about those times, latch on to deeper joy, and start fresh in believing that IT IS GOING TO BE GOOD.

ok, so now that that is out of the way, i'll say that i felt crappy for most of friday, saturday, and sunday. with 3 brief respites when i had lunch with a friend on saturday afternoon, when my friends came over to watch michael phelps host SNL on saturday night and on sunday when i went out to the beach at dusk and designed the cover of my new notebook with a rainbow of sharpie markers.

otherwise, the steady rain and the panic of the end of summer kind of gnawed at me. i ate a lot of things. including cookies and a cavernous bowl of baked cheetos.

the sermon at church on sunday morning was pretty timely, and i eagerly jotted notes so that i could ponder them for the hope experiment and for my soul generally. it was on paul's letter to the young church in phillipi. paul is in jail, and probably going to be executed. he doesn't pretend that that does not SUCK, but he also has this baffling joy and hope. paul had developed a maturity marked by unshakeable faith in his Redeemer, vital joy, and steady hopeful expectation no matter what his circumstances. he could be that mature because he ordered his life around Jesus. not success, relationships, pleaure, comfort, money or any of the other things that can be yanked away from us no matter how hard we pursue them.

here's the part most relevant to me today: paul's certainty of what will happen in the future (the Lord will be glorified whether he lives or dies) impacts everything about his present.

you know, i think that for a lot of my life i've actually found hopeful people to be obnoxious. think polyanna or, on my most cynical days, even my own beautiful mother who stubbornly REFUSED to turn to despair despite all her heartbreak and pain. that drove me crazy. it drove me crazy that she would smile through the dry thin lips of chemo and assure me that Jesus had everything under control. 'right! just like He did with dad!' i would offer back grimly. and she would smile again and say 'yep, just like that. and whether i stay here and get to spend more time with my kids or whether i get to go home and be with your dad again forever, either way it's OK with me.'

i would hate her for a split second in those moments. because i absolutely could not fathom that kind of calm. i felt like she was delusional or in some kind of extreme denial.

but in the last few months as she has headed back to chemo with only a slightly less sunny attitude, i have warmed to the idea that maybe she's had it right all along.

to sum up, after days of rain and grey skies, today is particularly spectacular for early fall. and maybe slowly but surely i'll learn to be able to carry it with me every day regardless of the color of the sky.