in the land of the living

I woke up this morning with the vestiges of a migraine still wrapped around my head. I'd been popping Imitrex like candy all week, to no effect; so yesterday I called my wonderful, fabulous, amazing doctor, closed the office early (with Boss-Man's permission), and went to get shots from one of the nurses. (I hate getting shots in the arse, by the way. I turn into this puddly fully-grown baby.) Then, to my shock and wonder and gratitude, the nurse said the doctor wanted to know if I wanted him to write me a scrip for steroids, since he remembered that those had worked against the Killer Migraine of December. When I first went to his office in January, I was told he hated prescribing steroids and wouldn't do it. Of course I said that would be wonderful, and a minute later she came back with the magic slip of paper.

I had just enough time to drop the scrip off at the pharmacy on my way home from getting the shots before the extreme drowsiness of the drugs set in, and then Meg later came and drove me back to pick up the 'roids. I started taking them this morning, and I think they're going to work. God bless my wonderful doctor, God bless Meg (no offense, Meg), and God bless God.

The AL came this morning to pick up his rent check, so I was able to follow up on the midnight phone call of the other night, and he has already spoken with the neighbors. When he left I sat on the porch drinking coffee and enjoying the perfect morning. South Bend in summer is quite a thing. My porch is on the side of the house and faces the long and narrow yard, and not the street, so I get a lovely view of the trees and the other houses, and it's incredibly peaceful. Everything is green and gold in the sunlight, and quiet.

It got me thinking about blessings. I love the house I live in, love the neighborhood, even, today, love the landlord, who noticed all the weight I've lost and was worried about me and recommended his church's food bank if I ever find myself unable to afford anything but cereal again. The new neighbors who moved into Kevin's old apartment seem like they're going to work out and be fairly quiet themselves (at least so far; I'm, as Mom put it, "cautiously optimistic"), and it's more wonderful than I realized not to have Pslightly Psycho Kevin lurking just behind his door to spring out and talk to me whenever I just want a private cup of coffee and some time to journal and read the Bible, or to bristle with resentment when I have a friend over (he was very propertarian and it was irritating and weird).

I have a guitar, for absurdly cheap, many, many months before I expected one. I have a cat who responded to his medication in ways I hadn't dared to hope. I have a bank account with money in it again. I have a job that is mostly satisfying, working for people I love, and who love me. I have Meg and Phillip, without whom I wouldn't have made it through last summer -- without whom, in fact, I wouldn't have stayed in the Midwest at all -- and who have become, not just family, but anchors of solidarity, good times (and "good" in its deepest send, not just "fun," although that's there in abundance too), trust, and affection. I have red coffee cups to drink from in the mornings. I have my parents and my sister, who, though far away, are always with me, and whose love I can count on at all times -- we've walked through fire together, and God has burned away a lot of dross over the years, and forged us more closely together, and it's been incredible to experience and to witness. I have Leigh Ann, the one person who is so much like me it's one of my greatest blessings, because I know I'm understood, and whose laugh is infectious. I have a church that preaches the Word truthfully and passionately, that looks to the needs of the community. I have a comfortable bed. I have medications that help me face and overcome depression and headaches, and I have the Holy Spirit to bolster my courage on the days when they don't work as well and I have to power through.

In short, I have a full, rich life, and I'm thankful for it. It's a little life -- I don't have swarms of people that I'm always spending time with, and in fact, most of the time, especially in summer, when the grad students are gone, the only people I see from week to week are the bosses and Meg and Phillip. But I keep in touch with the people I love who are farther away, and I write, and it's a good life. As God sees fit to expand it, so much the better: so much more to be thankful for.

Meg said yesterday, and I think she's right, that whatever I do whenever I find out what it is I'm supposed to be doing, it's going to be writing. I can't stop writing. I can't not write. As soon as I finish this post, I'm going out on the porch for my second cup of coffee, in a red mug, and some journalling.

A long time ago, just coming out of one of the deepest periods of despair I'd undergone, when I realized for the first time, in a personal and visceral, and not just intellectual, way, that God was good, and that truly "all things work for the good of those who love him, who are called according to his purpose," this became one of my life's Psalms:

I love the LORD, for he heard my voice;
he heard my cry for mercy.
Because he turned his ear to me,
I will call on him as long as I live.

The cords of death entangled me,
the anguish of the grave came upon me;
I was overcome by trouble and sorrow.
Then I called on the name of the LORD:
"O LORD, save me!"

The LORD is gracious and righteous;
our God is full of compassion.
The LORD protects the simplehearted;
when I was in great need, he saved me.

Be at rest once more, O my soul,
for the LORD has been good to you.

For you, O LORD, have delivered my soul from death,
my eyes from tears,
my feet from stumbling,
that I may walk before the LORD
in the land of the living.
I believed; therefore I said,
"I am greatly afflicted."
And in my dismay I said,
"All men are liars."

How can I repay the LORD
for all his goodness to me?
I will lift up the cup of salvation
and call on the name of the LORD.
I will fulfill my vows to the LORD
in the presence of all his people.

Precious in the sight of the LORD
is the death of his saints.
O LORD, truly I am your servant;
I am your servant, the son of your maidservant;
you have freed me from my chains.

I will sacrifice a thank offering to you
and call on the name of the LORD.
I will fulfill my vows to the LORD
in the presence of all his people,
in the courts of the house of the LORD --
in your midst, O Jerusalem.

Praise the LORD.

~Psalm 116