Monday, November 30, 2009

Hallelujah

I have often found myself on the verge of tears lately. And it's not due to sadness or melancholy or the season (though everything does seem to have more weight, more meaning in the fall and winter, doesn't it?). I'm just so profoundly grateful. My life is not perfect, but it is simple and it is happy. I feel cheerful and inspired and more sure of myself. I feel as though, after thirty years of life, that I have somehow stumbled upon the secret combination of joy and the world has just opened itself up to me. Maybe it's just that I've reached the point in my life that I can truly appreciate what I have. Maybe there's a gas leak in the house. Either way, happy's happy, right?

We spent Thanksgiving at home, just the three of us. I got out the good dishes and dressed up the table and cooked some good, simple things, and the three of us sat down and stuffed ourselves, and Nate ate three whole things at the same meal, which is nothing short of miraculous. At one point during the meal, I looked at my husband, the man I fell in love with at 15, lost at 16, found again at 20, and finally married at 23, and at my son, who I'd wanted for so long that it seemed to my impatient mind that I'd never have him, and I was so overcome with love and fierce thankfulness that I had to choke back tears. And we ate and relaxed and laughed and at the end of it, the table runner was smeared with mashed potatoes and cranberry relish, and our son had pumpkin pie in his hair and more cranberry relish on his face, and it was the best Thanksgiving ever. The hands-down best part of the meal was when Nate, who'd steadfastly refused all efforts to feed him cranberry relish, finally deigned to take a bite, and his eyes, no joke, lit up, and he said "MMMMMMM" and grinned at me, and I'd liked to have died right there in my chair. No one can compliment a chef like a nearly-two-year-old.

I have not forgotten that there are others who are not nearly as lucky as I am. That thought makes me sad every time I think it. I'll never be convinced that I do enough to help my fellow man. But I do know that I am lucky, and I am thankful for it, and I am more than aware that I am not immune to misfortune. Any time I'm profoundly happy or profoundly sad, I think "this, too, shall pass." Nothing lasts forever.

The title of this post is not a reference to religion. I am not a religious woman. I'm not really all that spiritual, either, I suppose. It refers to the song, written by Leonard Cohen, and covered by just about anyone under the sun (just search YouTube for confirmation). I've been listening to it a lot lately. It could be considered a sort of melancholy song, but to me, it just seems reverent - of life, of music, of love. It makes me feel peaceful, and it reminds me how I feel about my own life these days. It's as close to a personal hymn as I'll ever have, I suppose.

I am filled with love and light. This, too, shall pass, but not forever. Hallelujah.


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