a bubble of my own

This has been quite a week; the type of week that inspires someone to start an online diary so she can somehow sketch out a picture of what has happened, stand back and look at it, and shake her head at her life without injuring herself. Before today, I have been totally against blogging, thinking it was a trend that would soon wear itself out, like those goldfish platform sandals of the sixties. But when I stopped and considered it, I realized that I love to write and I find it a great way to let burdens slide off my shoulders. Which brings me back to the kind of week I've had, and the things I need to let slide.
The God bubble is a wonderful thing. It is a spherical, body-engulfing fortress, invisible to the eye, and almost even to the heart of its prisoner. It is soft, yet extremely strong (like Secret antiperspirant, right Hoagie?) and granted most often- I believe- to the children of praying mothers. At least, I know that's where mine came from.
After a tough weekend, a feeble attempt at a recovery Monday failed, even though a chocolate muffin was presented as the ultimate aid. I still cried on Stefan's shoulder all the way home, terrified that I was having a depressive relapse of some sort. Tuesday morning dawned with me stuck in my bed like a fly on flypaper, and not moving. I am eternally grateful for a mother who doesn't work on Tuesdays, and was cool with an early morning phone call from a different province, and graciously sat, listening to me wail for half an hour. Then she prayed the God bubble over me, and it hasn't left me since.
Now the funny (and extremely infuriating) thing about the enemy is that he loves to try to pop it. Imagine that! Trying to pop my God bubble. The one my mother gave me! Oh, let me tell you, did he ever try! I lost my very expensive bus pass yesterday, botched up my music skills midterm and got on the wrong bus. And that all happened in the space of an hour. And today, I found out that my replacement bus tickets (also pretty pricy) aren't really usable for me. And to top it all off, I stepped on a staple. That's right, a staple. It was in my shoe, and it stuck into my heel and I had to pull it out of my foot. And I bled on my sock.
But what I love is that the God bubble is still intact. Nothing can touch me. This is all about the peace that passes understanding. I love it. I really love it.

Its a good thing that the staple didn't pop my bubble.