Alleluia

There is a word that is one part joy, one part gratitude and one part relief: alleluia.

Alleluia can mean: We arrived home safely. Or, it's about time!
Alleluia can mean: I am seriously confused but will listen. Or, we agree to disagree!
Alleluia can mean: We are so fortunate to live in this place and time. Or, this country is beautiful!
Alleluia can mean: The days are lengthening and flowers blooming. Or, there is magic in that sunset!
Alleluia can mean: I missed you so much. Or, I am so happy to know you!
Alleluia can mean: I have made it through another day. Or, I have life and I am loved!
Alleluia can mean: There is so much to do today. Or, I finished that project!
Alleluia can mean: My friends are near me. Or, I have known amazing people!
Alleluia can mean: The rain came, and the gardens will grow. Or, I wrote a poem today!
Alleluia can mean: I am happy, I am thankful, I am ok. Or, we are going to be fine!

In Puerto Rico, I remember hearing alleluia as a response in daily conversation. Your car broke down but then re-started? Alleluia. Your mother was in hospital but returned home after treatment or surgery? Alleluia. The hurricane blew through the island causing damage but no one was hurt? Alleluia. Your son found a job? Alleluia. Your daughter returned after completing her studies in the US? Alleluia. If you are hurt, or sick, in trouble or confused, people will say to you, ay bendito, or "oh blessed one".  It means: You are accompanied in your pain, your sorrow, your discomfort, until there is a resolution, until we can say again, alleluia!

I have been in pain, in sorrow, in discomfort, as have people around me whom I love. Resolution is not always tangible, concrete, visible, perfect or predictable. Sometimes it is fleeting, but it has been felt. And today I say, with all my heart, alleluia.

This week in emotions

Confusion, mild panic at Trumpomania south of the border.
Pride, mild amusement at Trudeaumania south of the border.
Nostalgia after a phone call to a dear friend in Switzerland, with whom I have not communicated in about twenty years.
Awe at Facebook photo capturing Dan's grandmother and her four older sisters celebrating the 100th birthday of the eldest.
Satisfaction, and fatigue, after following a three day course on project planning software, in French, thereby using both sides of my brain simultaneously and wondering if maybe I might have been a computer geek in another lifetime (right, not.)
Denial before I come to terms with changes in eyesight and realization of having developed crows feet due to squinting.
Relief following appointment with hematologist (there is nothing wrong with my liver and I can continue living with the habits to which I have become accustomed, although I acknowledge that I should get more exercise).
Contentment watching husband and his dad sitting together on our patio chairs after shovelling off the deck, same legs crossed and heads tilted at the same angle.
Wonder at seeing the crescent moon emerge in the sky, shining brightly and visible through my family room window, knowing that at the opposite end of the earth my brother witnessed a solar eclipse caused by the same moon.

Our emotions are sometimes so big.  And yet, we are so small.

A Walk in Winter

We went for a walk today. It is still winter and, surrounded as we are by four- or five-foot snow banks all over the city, it is difficult to imagine the oncoming and inevitable thaw. The snow, packed down and walk-able, was still white -- except for the yellow stains from the dogs, not to mention the dog shit, that lined the paths -- and through the woods, the trees and their branches remained bare, snapping off as we pushed through the tighter spots. The air felt warm enough that I could take off my mittens. We walked at a leisurely pace: my husband and eldest son ahead, tossing snowballs and familiar insults at each other; my father-in-law following them, several paces behind, his steps deliberate but steady; and I, behind him, watching his matchstick legs as he stepped one foot in front of the other. Shouts and laughter echoed from the toboggan hill, and I stopped only to look up through the branches at the bluest sky.