Why I have Hope

Where have I been? I wish I had a good, true story to tell, such as I caught a fast plane to France and have been writing with Hemingway, painting with Van Gogh while indulging in thick, creamy cups of hot chocolate chased by warm pieces of fresh baguettes topped with rich, fresh butter. All the while not worried at the least about the number of calories being consumed because I'm in the city of light and love, which means all the walking and metro rides are doing their part in consuming my calories.

How I wish I were the person living life as described above. If I knew then what I know now, would my life be any different? I want to think yes! It's far better than writing about the last few setbacks that I encountered which created not just a serious case of writer's and creativity block at a time when I felt I was running on eight cylinders, but also laid me up in bed for longer than I care to admit.

But, the setbacks are not what I want to spend my time writing about. They already consumed up too much of my life. What's worse is it's time I can't get back as much as I want to. I also don't want to spend time writing about the things I've been doing for the last two weeks even though it makes me believe the winter in my brain is finally thawing out. Time will be show the truth.

What I do want to do is thank God. For the fact that during all of this, He held on to my righthand and never let go. He was there before me, next to me and behind me, every step of the way never forsaking me, never forgetting me, no matter how much I whined. No matter how much I felt like throwing in the towel.

God is so good. All the time, God is good.

That's why I have hope.