Do You Believe in Magic

I have been trying to write this blog for a month. It keeps morphing in my brain. But I need to get it done so I never forget it. 

So my dad died almost three years ago. It was a tough time that began an onslaught of unforeseen trials and whammys to the soul. Though that is not what this post is about, it sets the tone for the story. Though my dad was quite a colorful character, his innermost countenance is what drives me to want his traits brought out in myself. One of the most enduring qualities that both he and my mom instilled in us was to continually believe.  Whether it was in Santa, in miracles, in God, in better days, in finding true love, or finding ourselves, they believed. Many times they sacrificed for their beliefs. Dad served his country while mom worked and took care of their home.  Dad traveled a lot to support our family; mom stayed home and dealt with the day to day drudgeries and the ever present hormones of 4 daughters.  They believed in love and celebrated many years of it. They made sure we had Christmas, no matter how well our coffers were filled. They took us to church. They proclaimed their beliefs, and we always knew that magic is real-if only because we believe.

I do believe. Yet I know that life is a series of setbacks along with the good stuff. I take it all quite well, but there are days that are hard for me to trudge through and have a cheery disposition. Since I yearn to be a light, and brighten the world wherever I go, having a day like this is extra hard. I loathe myself when I can't snap out of it. Which makes me feel lower, then I feel guilt for feeling low. And I feel bad for feeling low. Ya see how that goes?

Well, after my did died, we went to see his grave, planning to get his medallion of service put on his headstone. Years ago, I was given a little metal star-about 1 1/2 inches in measurement- with a word emblazoned on it. I knew it would have to be saved for something special, and my dad's headstone was it. I talked to my mom and she agreed it should be on his headstone. We got the service medallion secured to his headstone and when it came time for the star, it was nowhere to be found. We searched the car, coat pockets, the ground, our house....anywhere we could think of, but it was gone. My heart was broken. This was also during one of the hardest times in my life that I have ever had to get through. I needed hope and comfort and losing that little star dashed my hope to pieces for a bit. It consumed me that I had lost that token of hope and memento for my dad.

Well, life goes on. It's 2 1/2 years since I lost the star. I have made it through any trials and challenges I wish I hadn't had to experience, but I am grateful for the things I learned from them. I am stronger in many ways but  have also found even more flaws I would like to change about myself. I have vowed to my dad and myself to keep my belief in all things good, and to keep hope alive. Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes I feel like I am swimming against the current. Sometimes I wonder if I can keep the belief going.

I was having a day like this just over a month ago. There were misunderstandings and frictions between so many people that I love-friends and family alike. So much suffering in the lives of people I care about. So many demands on my time and energy. I felt like I wasn't making a difference in my job. I felt like I was failing as a mother, a wife, a friend, and as a person. Everything seemed to crop up at once, and I was so very tired. I have discovered that the one thing that brings the most anxiety to me is wondering if I am a good person. I mean if I am a good person all the time. If the things I say and do are the right ones to show that my heart is good and my love is pure. I worry about how I affect people and if I made their lives better or worse by being part of them. I'm grateful I am discovering this, because I need to work on it. I am pretty dang sure I AM a good person, but I know I'm not perfect either. At any rate I was down.  I came home from work and saw all the chores that were not done, and I sank even lower. Gathering my strength, I marched into the laundry room and threw another load of laundry into the dryer. I was halfway up the stairs when I heard a sound in the dryer. I have to admit a little swear word went through my mind, and I thought, "Great. There was Chapstick in someones pocket and now it's in the dryer getting everything greasy." I all but ripped the dryer door off it's hinges trying to open it.                     And then I stood all amazed. There it was. The star. In my dryer. And it told me exactly what to do.

I have to tell you I fell to my knees then and there. I cried. I wept. I missed my dad. I prayed. I thanked God for this miracle from out of nowhere. I was humbled, and gratified, and once again at peace. Life got immediately better and brighter. Nothing had changed, just my attitude and the depths of my belief. I witnessed a miracle. Nothing in that dryer was anything we owned or wore over 2 1/2 years ago. That star was saved for something special. It was saved for me to be able to BELIEVE on a day that was hard for me to believe-and I believe that my father and my Father in Heaven worked in tandem to give me something to believe in. I know I will need reminders in this human state of mine, but I believe they will always be sent to me. And I am grateful.