So. Many. Blessings.

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Making some hand-quilting progress on this Lucy Boston quilt.

My life, really. My faith. And, well, read on....

I don't want to negate the suffering currently happening not only here in America, but planet-wide. Yet, YET! There is much for which to be grateful.

Like my faith. Which I don't discuss too deeply, but maybe I should, so this post can be better understood. Or I could direct you to this page on my blog, which talks about it. Yeah, that's what I'll do.

Because for some people faith in God isn't a comfortable subject, especially right now due to how falsely faith in God is portrayed by many in my nation's government. I have no problem saying that because refusing to authorize affordable health care and releasing monies for SNAP benefits is NOT loving one's neighbor.

Yet blessings abound, and I would be just as remiss if I didn't denote the goodness of this world. That I'm alive is a miracle. That I can write novels is a marvel. That I maintain a faith in God after my tumultuous childhood is... Yup, a blessing.

We all suffer through various trials. While in the depths of the lowest, darkest valleys, we wonder why; why is this happening to us, why can't a glimmer of sunshine emerge, why can't all the horrors be swept up and thrown onto the one perpetrating such evil. Yet we don't stop breathing; somehow we at times drag ourselves forward. Why is that? For what reason do we trudge through the muck? 

Hope. We hope life will improve. We hope the situation will alter. We hope for better circumstances for our beloveds, our world. And hope itself is a gift, because when pain is overwhelming, when trauma is debilitating, when depression sucks our lives to the nub, somewhere inside us is a flicker of hope.

And hope is what makes our world go round.

We might live in war-ravaged nations. We could exist under the control of terrible leaders. We may grapple with awful health problems. We.... I could go on and on, but suffice to say there's a whole lotta bad things that occur and yet, and yet.... And yet we smile. Or we try. We wake up in the morning, haul ourselves to hither and yon, then fall back into bed at night, not surrendering to the blackness. We grope for hope, gripping with what little strength we seem to possess. And then one morning we stir with less anxiety. Our hearts are eased, though we're not sure how or why. Life's problems don't feel as suffocating as the previous day. For whatever reason, we move from despair to whatever is less constraining, maybe hope? Hope figures into our elevation from fear to joy eventually.

From where this post springs, I can't completely recall. But I had to write it, so here it is. I am blessed. Events in life still seem, at times, wholly without explanation, but I'm here, I'm healthy, I can still freely vote, and I am extremely loved. And those are all darn marvelous blessings in my opinion.

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