On Sunday morning I lay in bed with my back against my husband’s chest, and the cat propped against me with her hindquarters on the bed and the rest of her body relaxed against my belly. As she purred, Michael and I groggily checked in with each other about last night’s sleep and the coming day’s hopes. In that moment I knew I was the luckiest woman in the world.

Also, too many people I know are in agony. It’s the usual culprits—death, divorce, disease. Add to that a whole lot of problems that haven’t been named or categorized. I know people who are feeling the brokenness in their minds and bodies, whether it has a name or not.

We’re veeerrryy close to the beginning of a remodel project that will add a master bath to our home. I can’t wait for the first day of real work, when the contractor comes in and lays that heavy duty cardboard down to protect the floors, and they start demolishing walls. I’m giddy with excitement about the next few weeks of packing up my bookshelves and moving things around to accommodate the remodel. Don’t ask me to explain this joy, but by golly I’m going to revel in it whether I can explain it or not.

I’ve been crying more lately, which is oddly comforting. I haven’t cried much the last year and a half since I’ve been taking anti-depressants. Whatever curbs my depression and anger also curbs tears, and I’ve missed crying. Last night I cried at the end of the Disney movie, Elemental. I teared up recently during a dolphin show at Sea Life Park. And this morning I cried when I shared a heavy heart with friends and their response came back immediate and full of love.

Yesterday I met with the school counselor at our local alternative high school. I’m slowly making connections in the community with the goal of learning about trauma-informed education and someday facilitating writing groups that empower incarcerated and underprivileged people to tell their stories. I want to give them room to be seen and heard. Writing is one path toward wholeness, and wholeness matters. Two books near the top of my TBR pile will help me with this—Between the Listening and the Telling, by Mike Yaconelli, and Writing Alone and With Others, by Pat Schneider. Just looking at those books gives me a tiny burst of energy, and if I let myself imagine a future in which I write with others toward healing, I break into a smile. Hand me the tools and let me get started!

If someone is living a better life than me, I don’t know who it is. Of course it wouldn’t take long to write down a dozen things that could be improved—but why bother? Today is my day to live, as me. I have what I need. I am enough. God is big and bigger and biggest.

When I feel the tension, I often return to these quotes, best when read together:

“Everything is so not okay.” -Anne Lamott*

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” -Julian of Norwich

Yes.

*Okay, the truth is I’m pretty sure I read this in an Anne Lamott book, but I can’t find it again. If you know, send me the book title and page number.