September.  The last day of summer vacation.  A new month.  Fifth grade starts tomorrow.

I woke up before 6.  The dog was barking and there is no quieting her these days.  We walked some and then I dithered trying to dispel anxiety which came unbidden before I awoke.

Fear.

I dreamed and I do not remember the dream.  I came to consciousness thinking that Julia was beginning 12th grade, not 5th.  And she was like she is today.  I was fearful that there was no good future for her and that she could not learn more than she knew at present.

And I had no dreams or hopes for her.  Or for me.

And in truth we have had a lovely weekend camping and a good day yesterday when we came home.  This was our second year at Upham Woods with FUS and there were more people who took to Julia.  Some children that played a bit with her and more adults who engaged her in conversation for short times.  But I am left with twin anxieties, happy couples ignite my fears of always being alone and happy, bright children focus me on who Julia is not.

I fear the unknown, the life that I have not planned for.  I want to cultivate happiness, find joy again.  I am not sure what to do with the fear and anxiety.  This is so clear to me that it is my habit of future living vs. living in the present.  And I feel stuck.  I can divert myself but I don't feel like I am meaningfully moving through the stuckness.  Is this a fake it until you make it situation or something else?  Do I embrace the fear and anxiety or is that wallowing?  And are the smiles that come from diversions real or paste?  Is there a benefit in naming the fears?

I have to move beyond this -- through, over, under, or around.  Julia is a glorious child and I am not so bad either.  I want to write once again that I am tired of this sadness, these fears, but obviously I need to feel them here and now before something else comes.  This morning I do not know how.  I remember writing soon after David died that I was ready to be saved.  This minute, I feel like I've been waiting for the savior since that time.  Not completely true at all, but there is something about that idea that rings so true.

And the only savior is me.  Have I been waiting for whatever spirit is hidden deep inside of me to spring to life?  Have I been waiting for the warrior of joy to spring fully formed from my head top?

This morning, I know that there will be no springing, no fully formed savior in any form.  Just me, walking through deep mud, feeling with booted feet for solid ground.