“Boy, I Hope I Have Three Bucks.”

This was my inauspicious outburst as I got behind the wheel to drive into town this past Friday. It hardly seems worth remembering now that another too-short weekend has passed us all by. But at the time, it was so heartfelt, so full of exasperation and hope. When I wrangled my wallet open, I was delighted to find exactly three dollars, enough to get me over the bridge, and nothing more.

Darkness is all around us on this train ride home, and I sense a weariness in the car. It’s not only the long winter, still upon us, or the mountains of e-mail and paperwork that probably sit in everyone’s in-box. It is that we are working hard and doing each day’s tasks with thankfulness, yes, but also with our attentions divided amongst other weighty matters.

Can I name them? I don’t know. Large things include the news full of its too-usual tensions. Several individuals along my paths are coping with various stages of grief, trouble or loss. There are myriads of small things, too:  the trackpad on the new laptop is unusable, and having to make five clicks can set off an embarrassing full-on rant. Add to that the dog who finds yet another large bag of chocolates, eats a third of it and the result is you, out in the cold at 3am in a coat thrown over a nightdress. The good news of finding “Sherlock” is offset by knowing the episodes yet to view are few. We’re not eating vegetables, and…it’s cold. Again.

But let’s not end there. This story began with three dollars found on Friday, right where and when needed. We are in the mixed bag called the end of February, and we should keep our eyes open for the entrance of lion or lamb at the week’s end.



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