Renewal of Hope

Tiredness overwhelmed me the last week. Tears swam around in my eyes at times, as weariness pushed its limit. I wondered why I'm so tired. Then I remembered the swing of emotions. Monday, July 21st, I attended a funeral for a one month old baby. I drove the baby's uncle and aunt to the grave site. No words can comfort, nor should they. We do have hope as Christians that the little girl is whole in Jesus' arms, but, but, the hurt cuts raw the mother. Truly, we can say nothing.
Wednesday, I received a call from James, my book consultant. "So Mollie, it's your father's birthday?"
"Yes, although he has been gone for some time."
"How would you like your book to go live on his birthday?"
"Is it possible?"
"Yes."
"When I saw how close it was to the twenty third, I prayed I could do that. God answers prayers."
After some talk about how many books I'd want to order and a few other business matters, I hung up. Quickly, because I also was getting ready for work, I announced it on Facebook and Twitter. Peace and wonder filled me. I walked on a cloud into work, high fiving my charge nurse as I proclaimed it to him.
I spent so much time marketing the book after that. I wrote my author page for Amazon. I also wrote a thousand words one day on my next novel, Last Free Exit, loving that the voice emerged.
Yet, with such mixed emotions, as well as some physical maladies, I dragged. Hopelessness reached out to strangle me. I ran out of time between marketing, household duties and preparing for work, to write on my novel or even blog. I sat at the laptop, staring at Facebook and other sites, feeling no words, no thoughts, desire smothered. I sensed rest would cure this. I prayed rest would revive the writing.
A three day weekend begins to bring hope back. I do wish I were listening to waves on a beach, either the ocean or Lake Erie. I sit in Hermitage, glad to have a chance to sleep early, as I wake early no matter what. Sleeping in, like today, I still feel tired, and out of focus. I know by Monday afternoon, my battery corrosion will be cleansed from puttering around and writing more succinctly. I'm glad to have no plan, no need to pack or load the van for a get away. I really would have been too tired for all that. I hope tomorrow or Sunday to visit Pymatuning. That water runs deep in my veins, I inherited that from my dad. Maybe even see an eagle fly, although, I'm much past my twenty seventh year. (John Denver fans, you know what I mean.)

Pymatuning, on Good Friday, a few years ago, where the eagles soar.

I know as I trust in the Lord, my strength will be renewed like the eagle's.