My old self is definitely back, because only she would be foolish enough to volunteer to organize David’s Christmas party.

I’m investing in life again, which is truly a miracle.

Last year I missed the Christmas party because I was afraid I would have a panic attack and be stranded at the school, unable to drive home. On the way to last year’s Halloween party I got a flat tire because, in a fit of anxiety (my hands were shaking), I hit a curb. I called Eric in tears to come bail me out. He suggested I not drive for a while, until I was confident that I wouldn’t start shaking en route to karate or the grocery store. The trembling continued for months, so I isolated myself in the house.

Unable to drive, I lived like a passenger on so many levels: not wanting to commit to anyone or anything. My suicidal thoughts were so intense last year at this time that I was positive I’d be gone by Easter. My disability colored every thought.

Contrast that fearful, insecure person to this year’s party planner, and you see God’s work.

One of my beloved friends, Mike, whom I talked to every other day last year when I was so down, just wrote me this e-mail: “Great talking with you the other night. You sounded so cheerful and your laughter was deep. I know that won’t be there all the time but it was, is, lovely to behold.”

God is good. Very good to those who wait, even if they cuss him out every day of that wait. He is good to those who are too debilitated to drive and do basic things for long periods of time, but who keep on putting one foot in front of another, hoping that one day they will want to invest in life again.