Last night I came home from my family's Christmas Eve celebration with a journal that Lindsay had put away for me from Donna's things this summer after she passed away. Donna had not had a chance to write anything in it; Lindsay thought I might like it. She gave it to me one afternoon I was there at her condo helping to sort through things and move some things around, but I left it there by mistake. Though I have seen Lindsay since then, she didn't have it with her at those times. Last night it felt like a Christmas gift.
When I got home I wondered how I might use it. What kind of journal should it be?
Still undecided this morning, I saw a piece on CBS News Sunday Morning--which I happen to watch rarely, if ever--about gratitude and mood, and a study in which people who journaled about gratitude were as a result twenty-five percent happier than those who journaled their gripes. At the end of the piece, the correspondent quoted Einstein who said you can live your life as if nothing is a miracle, or as if everthing is a miracle.
Yes. Exactly. What perfect timing, I thought, as I wiped tears away again for the umpteenth time in the last twenty four hours. Someone stepped in and told me to get happy again, to start to focus on all that I have to be happy about and grateful for.
For that divine intervention, and so much more, I am grateful.