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Hope Floats!

My musings for this amazing Saturday are inspired by my yoga teacher, Olivia. This morning, bright and early, I was at yoga. I love yoga because it gives me a sense of self-control. It gives me a moment to be. No worries ahead. No to-do list. No fears. Just being. I told Olivia that she needed to inspire me today so that I could write something for you all! She laughed and said to me, "I can tell writing has been healing for you during this hip journey!" She did not know at that moment that she just gave me an "ah ha" moment. Before my hip problems, I had written only using technical language - responses for legal arguments, The Educational Therapist Journal and T.H.E. Journal. Boring stuff - not empowering, not hopeful, clinical and devoid of human emotion. This hip recovery has allowed me to slow down just a little bit! It has given me the time to embrace my only artistic skill - that of being a painter of words.

This morning, I also got a call from a very important person in my son's life (and mine). A forgotten and broken camera that took pictures of life through my dad's eyes is of value. It has the possibility of seeing life through another's eyes. It has the ability to record the hope that my son sees. I had long forgotten about that camera. It was a camera that has seen laughter, thankfulness, love and graciousness. It has also seen the recipes of hope that we have baked into our lives. A connection to the past and to the future.

For me, the pictures of hope that create my recipe are a combination of many things. First of all, I'm an optimist who can pull myself out of a bad or fearful mood most times with a combination of sleep, a bit of chocolate and a dose of sappy love stories or Pollyanna positivity quotes on Instagram. I also have a pretty bad sense of humor compliments of my dad which gets me through some fearful moments. For example, I had to ask the anesthesiologist for a joke before he started breathing for me and he had none. Really? So I had to tell him a joke to lighten my worry, "Did you hear about the status of the boy who swallowed a quarter? No change yet." He did not laugh! But the nurses did.

Hope floats is one of my mantras. Hope Floats is also a sappy love story that spews positivity and a gorgeous Harry Connick Jr. In the movie, the grandmother is me. She puts on a smile and moves forward in life. Her pain and worries are mostly hidden. She takes care of others so it is especially difficult for her to have to be taken care of -to admit weakness. She says, “Beginnings are usually scary, endings are usually sad, but it's what's in the middle that counts. So when you find yourself at the beginning, just give hope a chance to float up. And it will.”

In my hip journey, the beginnings were terrifying for me. I have made the "middle count" - with my serious and persistent approach to my rehab and my dedication to getting myself out of any funk pretty quickly. But, my ending won't be sad like the character in the movie. I still have a few muscle glitches to work through, but my attitude will encourage my hope to "float up".

Now enough of that sap. Go find your recipe for hope and send it to me so I can share.

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