A Mixed Ending
July has been an especially hard month for me. I know. I know. Life is what we make of it. Our attitudes define everything. If we have a positive outlook, positive things happen. God is in control.
Platitudes make the world go round.
If there’s one certainty in the universe, it is that I am frequently wrong. I’ve been wrong about people; wrong in things I’ve supported; wrong in decisions I’ve made; wrong in actions I’ve chosen to take or allowed to flutter by.
I’m grateful that, in the midst of all this wrongheadedness, at least I’m not wrong about a few of the people in my life. The joking I’ve done on this blog this week has served to mask bereft disappointment. Something that I desperately wanted, even profoundly needed, didn’t happen for me.
I don’t always get what I want.
Between all the tears I’ve shed, my friends have been there – listening as I talked in circles; righteously angry at what seemed unfair; cracking witty jokes in my lowest moments, engineered to hit my oddball funny bone; and being kind enough not to point out how a red face and swollen eyes aren’t a good look for me.
True friends are like breathing air. You helped me more than you know this week, and I thank you from the depths of my bruised, not broken, heart.