Moment of joy

I remarked a while back that I was not a naturally-joyful person.

And yet. I find I am still capable of it. I had a moment of intense joy this morning, almost enough to make me a little tearful. I suppose what it is is that I've matured past the state where some things can bring me joy - like when I was seven and Whatever Cartoon Character I Then Liked Most Playset would have brought me tremendous joy.

In a way, it's a good thing, because it's less-materialistic now. But it's also not so great, because it's maybe harder to get.

Anyway. A friend of mine at church - actually, a retired member of my department - had been unwell for about a month. She is an INTENSELY private person so I don't ask, because I know people like that (my dad is like that) hate it when people ask.

Anyway. Finally someone got out of her she was having some issues where she was undergoing testing, and apparently the outcomes could be "bacterial infection curable by antibiotics" or "cancer."

(Not exactly a lot of inbetween, there)

Anyway, before church I was talking with someone - we were also observing that more people were there than had been recently (A good thing, and it looks like the family that left us five or so years back over "not enough teen activities" is coming back now that their kids are young adults. They haven't officially rejoined, but they've attended every week for at least a month, so....as my friend Jane jokingly said, "They're OURS now")

But Judy walked in. And I said to Jane, "Oh, there's Judy!" and she looked happy and relaxed and not-unwell....so I was hopeful. And yeah, apparently it was a bacterial infection, and she's better now, and will be back with us, and, yeah. That was something I needed to hear.

(Ironically, one of the things I had sadly been musing on the other day: "I wish I didn't care so intensely about the people in my life, it hurts so much when they're sick or troubled" but I realized this morning: If I didn't care about people enough to hurt when they hurt, I probably wouldn't feel so happy when they are doing well. So I don't know. I guess bad comes with good, or something)

(Still, I do secretly wish that I could have that six-year-old joy again over a cartoon-character playset).

***

I'm mostly packed. Enough clothes, and I had room in my suitcase for all the sockyarn I wound off - yarn for the mitts and hat, yarn for the Paddington's Garden shawl, yarn for the Weasley Homestead socks (I am going with Dream in Color's "Lucky Jade," which actually looks more like a light spruce green to me). And a couple other cakes of sockyarn in case I run out of other projects - one is a self-striper for just simple socks). And in my carry on I have the two socks I will be working on, and Celestarium, and a long scarf of glitter yarn. I decided against trying to drag the Augusta Cardigan along; the yarn for that would be too much to carry. And I have pajamas for on the train, and multiple books. And there's still space for the things that need to go in the morning: my medications and hairbrush and other toiletries and mouthguard and also the Emotional Comfort Ponies (am thinking: Fluttershy and Minty and maybe the tiny sleepy Scootaloo). If there's room I might take the new dolphin pillow so I'm more comfortable sitting and reading.

(I also need to remember to put my blood-pressure monitor in after tonight....)