What a day! I should blame it on hormones. As I was catching up on all the computer work for my job this morning, as I was thinking back on the stories of people who need help making me feel so limited, the tears gathered in my eyes. Two phone calls from my husband, then a co-worker and the tears let loose.
A bright part of the day is the commemoration of famous authors' birthdays. Charles Dickens is two hundred years old. Sinclair Lewis also entered the world on this day, 1885. And my favorite, Laura Ingalls Wilder, in 1867. At least, I have read more of her books and reread them. I have mentioned before, I love her simple style, yet so descriptive, drawing a person into the story. I entered her embarrassment at being scolded for not being as good as Mary, and joined in the anger at her teacher's injustice, who later would be her sister-in-law. I cried when Jack, the good, faithful brindle dog died. I think I can understand why she never wrote about the baby brother who died, probably too painful for her.
Children's stories written well speak volumes. We learn so much from them. I always marvel at the old Disney movies written on two levels. The lines were not innuendo or in poor taste. They seemed to engage the adults that watched, a reward for bringing the children to the theater.
Another bright spot today, among many, was Mary DeMuth's newsletter about her twenty year struggle to get her first novel about her grandmother published. She had published others before the twenty years, but it is a great accomplishment. Her best part of the day when she finished this novel, was following God's leading by praying for the pizza delivery man.
So no matter the downfalls or the accomplishments of the day, helping someone is the most important element. Help someone.