Well, hello there . . .

Here I am again, after a nearly 7-month silence. My last posting, titled "Room to Grow," may have been prescient. Some dear family members went through some upheavals and I was deeply involved in their resettling and finding new stability. I have no clue, though, why that resulted in my absence from this blog, which I love.

So what brought me back, you ask? Why, this . . . .

And what is this, you continue to ask?

There it is again, against my luscious peachy front door.

Still puzzled? Okay . . this should explain it . .

Yep, that's me, in my brand-new, favorite-of-all-time, bathrobe. We won't mention that it is 1 in the afternoon . . .or that I'm still unshowered . . . Let's draw attention, instead, to the post-it note captured in the photo, which reads, "Ah . . . you never give up." I'm proud to be able to claim that as a truth.

Okay, let's get real. Why, with all the struggles in the world, am I writing about a bathrobe? And why in the world would that be the reason for me to finally start posting again here on my blog, after more than half a year away from it?

Well, if you expected some high-flown, straight-from-a-Zen-mountaintop answer, you need to look elsewhere :) . I'm as surprised as the next person, to find myself downstairs, at the computer, posting this message. It was absolutely nowhere in my conscious thoughts.

Ah . . . but underneath the surface of those everyday, usually rational thoughts, now teems a whole ecosystem of fresh hope, burgeoning joy, renewed faith. As if years upon years of hardshell hurt is cracking open. As if the real and pure child-of-God me is finally finding her way into the light of day. Not just peeking into the light, but moving out into the glorious center of it.

Thanks to my dear daughter's keen eye, I bought the pink robe yesterday at a quarter of its original price. Snuggled in it last night. Laid it near my pillow and played with its luxuriant softness during wakeful times in the night. Drew its comfort across bare shoulders in the pre-dawn chill of those last few hours of sleep. Got up and zipped myself into its embrace and have cuddled in it all morning.

I can't effect world peace. I can't undo decades of heartsore aches and pains for myself or others. I can only greet the day with child-like trust in my Creator. I can pray with a heart and soul open to possibility of healing. And I can give thanks for the sweet and simple joy of a raspberryluscious, cuddlywarm robe, wrapping me in the remembrance that we are all deeply, deeply loved.