When all Around Our Hope Gives Way- Real Hope for the New Year
It's been a blue Christmas. One that has been marked with illness-fever, aches, pains, sniffling, congestion and wheezing, sinus infections, flu, bronchitis. My amazing intentions of having a "beach-themed Christmas" triumphantly flopped. Gorgeous white plates that are lined with conch shells and sea stars, scored at the thrift store, sit on the table unused. The beautiful shells never turned into ornaments. And my sand sits in tubes that were supposed to hold pine branches. Oh me and my idealistic, romantic ideas. Oh me and my putting hope into something false, something unlasting, something intangible. All in all I'm doing well. I'm much recovered. I don't wish for a "quick end" like I was begging God for between coughing spasms a couple weeks ago. But there is a sadness deep in my bones. A depression I've been unable to shake in all my attempts of trying to create my own light. There is a dizzying superficial rendering of this pathetic attempt
