One of the people who cares about me observed today that I was sort of having a little pity party.  Well, it might have been a pity party but it wasn’t little.  I expressed feeling bad to this person, thinking I was confiding, processing, not complaining.  It sounds the same, I realize.  Complaining about one’s cares and expressing how bad one feels mirror one another, especially if you repeat yourself like a broken record rather than searching for ways to make lemonade with the sour things that plague you.

So let me say this, to the people who love me, to whom I have been voicing lament:  I’ll take a little cheese with my whine, thank you very much.  If I sink too far in my own depths; if I seem to be wallowing in the muck rather than looking on the bright side, you’ve got my permission to kick me in the backside and rattle my cobwebs.  To the person who gave me a little slap today — who shall remain anonymous — thank you.  I needed that.  Message received.

Gratitude all around, friends.  I love you all.  All.  Without exception.  The bunch of you have stood by me.  All of you.  Even folks who have no obligation to do so.  And I am humbled, and grateful.  My guardian angels, sometimes in disguise, have not deserted me.

Angels all around me; this is a guardian angel hanging on my house, given to me by Marcella Womack. When I see it, I am reminded of all the people who love me and watch out for me — sometimes with tough love. How blessed I am!