Star Light, Star Bright

“I wonder if I’ll ever be happy.” 

This was a sentiment thrown out to me today. . . and it has me thinking. . .

You see, when the words met my ears everything inside me was screaming. . .it’s up to you!!  But, I’ll admit, maybe I’m wrong.  I wonder?  Am I just naive?  Have I not experienced enough yet to really understand that, sometimes, life circumstances trump hope?

What do you think?

I work on Monday’s.  By the time I get home, the kitchen table has been cleared, dishes have been cleaned and put away, and the aroma of dinner lingers in the air.  On some Monday’s I get home and the kids are already in bed. On those days, I sneak in for a quick conversation and a good-night hug before they drift off to sleep.  On other evenings, my last client cancels and I am lucky enough to get home before little heads hit fluffy pillows. 

Tonight I got home in time for bedtime.

Monday night bedtimes are extra special because I haven’t seen the kids all day and I am less rushed with my patience tank on full.  Tonight, I put Chanelle to bed while the boys wrestled in the next room.  Since my patience was on “full” I was all in when Chanelle requested a few extra books.  And the 14 questions that went with each page turn?  They didn’t bother me a bit. 

I love the way she nestles her head into the little space between my arm and my torso.  And the way she clutches the animal of the night in one arm and laces her other arm through mine gives me warm fuzzies like you wouldn’t believe.  I like to watch as she fights to get her little toes covered by her blanket as unfiltered chatter flows from her mouth.  Tonight it went something like, “Mommy, who painted my room?  Was it dark when I was in your belly?  Do we have olives?  I like olives, but Ruby doesn’t.  Can I sleep in Charlie’s room? Please? What are we doing tomorrow?

I attempt to read while she interrupts every other word with her barrage of questions.  I repeat, over and over again, listen and you’ll know, Chanelle, until the story finally ends.  We laugh and clap our way through a book of silly rhymes before opening a “new” book from the library.  This book makes my eyes glisten as I read, “Dearest baby, child of mine I will hold you ’til you sleep. . . While the leaves of autumn fly, we will laugh the pain away. . . Dearest baby, child of mine I will love you all your life. . .” And when Chanelle asks why I’m crying, I just remind her that I love her because I know that there is no way she will understand until the day when she will hold her own little bundle in her arms. 

We close the books and I cover her up from shoulders to toes and stop in to say a final good night to my little guy.  Without fail, though, they will venture out of their rooms for one reason or another, but luckily it’s Monday and my tank is full, so it’s okay.

So here I sit on a Monday night thinking about that question. . . will I ever be happy?  I think about those two little people sleeping peacefully in their beds and I hope upon hope that they will find happiness in their life.  I know, though, that life will throw them curve balls and all will not be perfect. Does happiness mean perfection?  Am I crazy to think that even if life doesn’t go as planned. . . there is always something to be happy about? 

My answer to that question today is. . . heck yes, there is always something to be happy about.  I have to believe that even in times of hardship, mourning, and pain. . . hardship, mourning, and pain is not ALL there is.  There is always something to celebrate.  There is always something for which I can be thankful.  There is always hope.  I say that a bit hesitantly, though, knowing that, if I’m lucky, more of my life is ahead of me than behind me.  Perhaps I’ll feel different in another 30 years when I’ve experienced a bit more. . .

I doubt it, though.  I’m stubborn. . . I’m not likely to admit I was wrong.