Call me crazy

I looked out my window yesterday and noticed that the snow was mostly gone. The weather had been around 40 degrees for a couple of days, so the inevitable thaw occurred. It was at that point that I realized that I really don’t like seeing green grass in January. Cal me crazy but I truly like the snow, although my arthritic joints don’t always agree.

As I was mulling over the disappointment of seeing the grass, I thought about a statement I heard at a community event held during the past weekend. It was a tribute to Martin Luther King, Jr., and my children were presenting their artwork for the event. The statement was in regards to our impending inauguration here in the U.S.: “One day we will wake up and the Trump nightmare will be over.” In hearing that statement and the applause that followed, I realized that I am not the only one who is incredibly anxious about this particular President. The statement helped me to find hope with the simple reminder that this President will not be in office forever.

I’ve been cherishing that tiny reminder of hope like I would a candle that is struggling to remain lit. I’ve been giving it my positive energy and finding ways to kindle that hope in the lives of the people I meet, especially my students. I have lived through some bad Presidents in my life, although the awful ones were in power before I really could remember anything.Somehow, though, we have always recovered and have generally become stronger than we were before.

That tiny flicker of hope has spread to other parts of my life, such as my eternal battle with weight, my RA, and the extraordinarily long case of what my mother called “myfunzalow” disease (if you say it aloud, it makes sense– think of money).

  • My weight will likely never be what I hope it could be, but it is the best it can be each day because f the choices I make. My family loves me no matter what shape my body takes. The belly is a living badge that I bore two beautiful children.
  • The RA comes and goes. Some days I feel good enough to take on the world, and other days I can barely drag myself from task to task. However, each day I get to wake up next to my best friend, generally with the kitty patrol telling me that it’s time to get moving.
  • The myfunzalow disease is abating, albeit slowly, for the first time in about 16 years. My husband is finally — finally!– reaping measurable success with his business and we have active contracts. I think the greatest joy in this is watching my husband finally being rewarded for his skills. He is joyful in his work, and because he did not compromise and just take “any” job to pay the bills, he is now building his business the way he wants it built. It complements our family dynamic, and I take great pleasure in sending invoices to his customers. That he is happy and fulfilled professionally is probably what gives me the most hope of all.

The biggest takeaway from this renewed hope is that no matter how disappointing a situation is or how bleak the future seems, a tiny spark of hope can be found if you search hard enough. If you haven’t found it yet, keep searching.

By the way, it snowed last night. The ground and trees are covered in their January mantle of white.


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