At no time

At no time this side of heaven will I ever find happiness free from sorrow. It can't be done. The two go hand in hand. My spirit is slowly, painfully, accepting that fact.

My best friend since college called yesterday, excitedly informing me the acceptance letter had arrived---She will be going to grad school this August.

Shortly before hearing her good news, I received the news that a friend had died after being diagnosed with a massive brain bleed a few days earlier. I had just spoken with her a week ago. She told me she was looking forward to seeing pictures from my upcoming trip to Romania. She made the best mashed potatoes and coconut cake, and always, always made sure she spoke to me on Sunday at church. Now she's gone.

And that's that. No fanfare. No writing across the sky. Nothing. 

I've always felt like the universe should give a response. As it is, when tragedy strikes or joy overflows, the sun continues to rise, the wind tosses the tree branches, and everything simply goes on. The earth can be infuriatingly calm in the face of conflicting emotions.

Love

Love looks like homemade Valentines covered in glitter, waiting to be sealed in envelopes and mailed.

Love looks like a bouquet of flowers from a best friend.

Love looks like chocolate, cards, and flowers from preschoolers crowding around, eagerly saying, "Open your presents, Miss Holly!"

Love looks like watching a Hallmark movie with your grandparents, the story touching each viewer in a different way, wiping away tears of remembrance.

Happy Valentine's Day!

You know it is true friendship when the person calls out of the blue and says, "I need friend time. May I spend the weekend at Providence House?" And you say, "Absolutely yes!" with no thought to the pile of laundry waiting to be folded, the dirty dishes in the sink, or the sand on the floor. Your friend arrives a few hours later. The dishes and laundry can wait. We would rather stand outside in the cold and find constellations. The stars are magnificent tonight!

Oh give me a home where I cook chili on a three-burner stove!

Listening to Jim Reeves, Patsy Cline, Marty Robbins, and the Glenn Miller Orchestra on Pandora while a homemade pot of chili simmers on the stove, a fresh pan of cornbread waits nearby, and the lovely moon lingers above the treeline; the joys of a simple life.