On the occasion of your return

Here you are, on the other side of that kiln fire, transformed. I can only imagine the mishmash of exhaustion and exhilaration with which you are preparing for the journey back into strength and good health.

You can do it.

I think Darwin was right: "Ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge: it is those who know little, and not those who know much, who so positively assert that this or that problem will never be solved by science." You have proven these last months that knowledge is power; it is fight; it is strength.

But it is on an occasion this important that the recovering Catholic in me sees the value, too, in invoking God. Don't worry, I'm not going all re-born on you (er, "not that there's anything wrong with that..."), but let's just cover all our bases, shall we?
The prayer below feels to me like Grandma-meets-fortune-cookie-meets-a-"Love is..."-statuette. Maybe a "Love is..." ninja statuette.
I bet if you eat tofu pate while you read it, you could call it a meditation.
I hope that you enjoy every last one of these happiness-es upon the momentous occasion of your return home...

Dear God, I thank thee for the little joys that spangle a day with brightness: The cool dew sparkling in the early morning, the smell of fresh coffee at breakfast, the tug of wind on white clothes billowing like sails on the line, the slamming of doors as members of the family come home, the sudden laughter of shared enjoyment, the happiness that comes from finding a certain letter in the mailbox, the thrill of discovering the first seedling poking up through garden soil, the pleasure of seeing old friends who drop in, the special music of church bells ringing on Sunday.

Help me to appreciate the value of the little things that shine in the texture of each day, for by finding happiness in this way, I shall have happiness to give. Amen

Biggest love, friend.
bobbie