Just to let you know, I am still sick. Last weekend, I felt better, so I went full throttle, going to theology class all day, Kidstown Sat. night, church Sunday morning, grocery store, moving prep, hip-hop class, and a Dominican Republic trip meeting. Phew!

Monday morning it nailed me again. And we are trying to get packed for our move. Wednesday I packed two boxes, and almost passed out.

Needless to say, I am over the fun of being sick. Russ is over me being sick.

I have been tired and cranky, and yesterday I mustered up enough energy to walk the dogs because they were growing restless. In fact, they have been driving me crazy lately. Bouncing off the walls. And Rocky has a major problem on walks. He has a TOTAL MELTDOWN every time he sees another dog. He wriggles himself out of his halti, and pulls as hard as he can towards the other dog, and drags me behind him. Every other minute he is fine, but another dog triggers the most spastic reaction I have ever seen. And he's not even trying to attack, he just wants to say hi. I have got a severely disturbed, overly-friendly dog.

So let me just say I was in no mood for one of his meltdowns, but as usual, he saw another dog on our walk and lost it. It took all the strength in me to hold this 70 pound dog back. But even worse was after I finally got Rocky under control, I looked up to see this sweet little old man with a big floppy sun hat out doing yard work. And he was looking right at me shaking his head.

AND DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT SWEET LITTLE OLD MAN SAID?????

He said, "ooohhhh, looks like you need to watch that dog show on t.v."

WHAT????????? As my heads spin around several times.

I couldn't even answer him for a minute, I just stared him down with an evil grin.

"Uh, yeah, been there, done that. Even read the book, thanks."

"Call him up," he says, "Maybe you can get on the show."

I'm starting to envision the headline, "Dogwalker kills old man."

And then evil little old man says, "But they sure are cute."

The audacity.

I wanted to wring evil old man's neck. But then I realized when you get old you say things, and I guess when your old you have a right to butt in on somebody's walk with their dogs and tell them their troubles are so bad they need to watch the Dog Whisperer, or better yet, be on the show.

I can't wait until I am a devilish old woman and can say whatever I want.

I'm sick.

My head aches. My body aches. My ear aches. My salivary glands are swollen again. My throat is sore. My eyes are itchy and burning. My nose is running.

And I am on my third episode of "The View" (the beauty of tivo) in one day.

Lounging around is nice.

Sometimes I am thankful for the common cold. It gives me an excuse to relax, to be lazy and whiny and cuddle with my dogs.

I think I'll go take a nap.

I've cried this week. Shed a few more tears than usual.

I've shed tears for seven little girls in an Amish schoolhouse. Tears falling in my cereal, welling up and pouring out all over my breakfast.

I've shed tears for a client who has more pain than anyone should have to bear.

I've cried for those whom God created for Himself, but who choose to partner with the devil instead.

I've cried for hearts laid bare before the Lord and me in a counseling room, and the awesome power of Scripture to comfort and heal and break and stretch and battle and shape.

I've cried just thinking about a God who chooses to use me in a person's tranformation process.

And tears over my own process, and the two steps forward, one step backward movements I make, and the patience of God with my slow progress.

And I've cried at the joy of expressing myself creatively again. Of dancing again.

And the tears of amazement that God would grant me a job in a church before even graduating seminary.

That he would use me, and provide for my financial needs, that he would know my gifts, my loves, my desires, and would pour out His goodness over and over even as I have doubted it over and over.

And it seems the older I get, the more I cry.

And, in a way, I am glad. I feel more alive when I cry.

And despite the tears of sadness, and anger, and outrage at the choas of the world, I can't help but feel like my eyes have been opened like Elisha's servant to whom Elisha said, "Don't be afraid, for there are more on our side than are on theirs." Whose eyes were opened to see a great army of the Lord, the hope of the Lord, the love of God from which nothing can separate us.

And that's why I cry more tears of hope and beauty than of sadness and rage.

So I'll keep crying, and keep living, and keep hoping.