Hi everyone--

I woke up today to such an outpouring of love and support. Many of you e-mailed me privately. Thank you all for your concern and kind words.

The following is an edited version of my response to a personal e-mail Dotsie sent me this morning. I am sharing these very private thoughts in the hopes that my honesty will help someone out there. Clarifications and additions to the original note are in brackets.

Dotsie,

Thank you so much for your concern. . . . Mike comes home either tomorrow or Sunday. He's not sure which yet. I'm still not clear whether I'm allergic to chocolate, or whether I had some sort of attack related to this virus I've been struggling with since Christmas.

I've had very little sleep. I'm still quite weepy. I might go back to bed in a few minutes. But I woke up this morning, looked out my window at the trees swaying in the wind, listened to the rain falling on my roof, and felt this overwhelming sense of gratitude. I almost always wake up with a feeling of gratitude in my heart, but this morning is different.

I was given a very special gift last night. It's exactly like you said: This was no ordinary occurrence. And as you so wisely, helpfully, suggested, I need to take the time to reflect on why this happened when I was alone, why I felt so alone.

I'm not religious per se. I wasn't brought up in a particular faith. We didn't go to church. But my parents transmitted to me their belief in God, a deep respect for human life, and a sense of wonder for the mystery of it all. . . . For 30-something years, I've been taking time each day to meditate and pray. To connect, as my friend Nancy says. . . . The whole time I was writing my book, my prayer, my faith, was a lifeline. But lately--the last six months or so--I've been working so hard to get the word out about my book that I think I've gotten away from prayer, from gratitude. I've been giving it lip service [in reading this over, I see I'm being way too unkind to myself--"lip service" is too strong a phrase], but I haven't really been taking the time to be thankful, to connect with my God-self.

Whereas writing is a very solitary activity that lends itself to reflection, promoting is a very outward-directed activity. My e-mail box is overflowing. My phone sometimes rings off the hook. People come to my house to interview me. I travel for speaking engagements.

I'm loving my life. I'm happier than I have ever been. I am so humbled and thankful. But I think I need to slow down. To breathe. To trust. This is embarrassing for me to admit to you, but I think a part of me feels that if I don't make my maximum effort every day, my [bestseller] dream won't come true. [To clarify: From the beginning, like many authors, I've dreamed of my book becoming a New York Times bestseller, not to glorify myself or to make a lot of money, but as a signifier that people all over the country are reading it.] That statement betrays an inherent lack of trust in God, a lack of trust that I am being taken care of, that my dreams are sacred and larger than myself. I keep telling people that my effort IS my prayer, but I can see this morning that my practice and my faith needs to be deepened.

Thank you for giving me this chance to write through my feelings, Dotsie, and to be there to listen.