This last Monday was the final day of Sukkot, a Jewish holiday on which Jews remember their 40 years of wandering in the desert before entering the promised land. These last few years I’ve been able to observe this holiday with my friend Camille, even though I am not Jewish. Camille invites all to this celebration.

Sukkot revolves around eating a meal in a Sukkah (a tent) to invoke the feeling of wandering. Camille fashions a kind of tent around her patio table by hanging fabric from a trellis around it. Camille encourages us to think about who, living or not, we might like to have join us in the Sukkah and share why. This year people chose everyone from Robert Redford to Jane Goddall.

It wasn’t hard for me to imagine who I’d invited to this year’s Sukkah. I immediately thought of my dad. He would enjoy mingling with the guests and eating the delicious food. More importantly my dad is a Bible professor, so he actually knows a bit about this holiday and how it fits in the Jewish calendar. Jesus celebrated Sukkot.

Mostly though I’d invite my dad because he is an inspiration to me. His theological interests began at age 50 when his pastor at the time challenged the congregation to read the entire Bible in a year. My dad accomplished that and was motivated to take some seminary classes. Eventually he started working towards a degree and at age 65 he received his Master’s in Theological Studies. A few years later he got a Doctor of Divinity and began teaching at a seminary. As I approach the second half of my life I’m inspired by my dad to dream big about what is still possible in my life—or, as David Brooks would say, my “second mountain.”

In the days after celebrating the Sukkot, I’ve been pondering about how this celebration fits in my life right now. Fairly quickly I could see that I’m not unlike the Israelites who were wandering in the desert for 40 years. I’m in a sort of low-grade depression that makes everything (including writing this blog) feel difficult.

I can say with maybe 90 percent certainty that this depression will last three more months. At that point I will shift quite quickly into a hypomanic state where things will seem easy and everything will be rosy. It will be like finding the promised land.

Why do I know this? Over the past year (maybe more), I’ve been in a kind of rapid cycling of my bipolar condition. For three months I am content, energetic, eager to try new things and productive. Then, almost overnight, I find it hard to get up in the morning, needing more sleep and finding everyday tasks such as going to the store, hard. I feel as if I am trapped in this cycle and there is no way out. The depressive states are truly a desert as I find it hard to be creative and hard to write.

I do manage to keep a journal in these depressive phases. It’s easy for me to write something that no one but me is ever going to look at. What I discovered today after journaling was that things aren’t as cut and dry as I might imagine. Though my overall feeling is one of depression, I notice that God is presenting me with encouragement in the form of serendipity. Under the Sukkah, for example, I heard my Camille’s husband Bruce talk about the joy he recently experienced sending his oldest son off to college. Everyone had told him how hard it would be but he is happy to see his son thriving independently. His son even joined the dragon boat team—quite a surprise since he had had a traumatic experience trying crew in high school.

On Saturday this past weekend I experienced a touch of God’s grace as Jim and I drove to the city to go to dinner in North Beach. By chance, we passed by a restaurant on Russian Hill I had long enjoyed—but had closed—and I noticed there was a new place occupying the spot. Jim double-parked while I went in to get a table. Just by chance, they had an open table for two and by the way, the maître’d said, we could park across their driveway.  This is in a neighborhood where parking is impossible! I told the maître’d I’d recommend his restaurant, which was very tasty, so here it is: Abrazo. On the corner of Lombard St. and Hyde St. The octopus tapa was outstanding! A bonus about the location is that you can get a scoop of Fenton’s ice cream across the street after your meal.

The best news and bit of grace I heard at the Sukkot was that Camille had quit a toxic job. The job had been so stressful that she was experiencing stomach pain. She went to the doctor and he told her basically that her pain was caused by stress. I’m glad she quit the job.

Sukkot is not only a time to remember the 40 years in the desert, but also a time to celebrate the fall harvest. As I write this we recently experienced a heavy rainstorm. Rain came a bit early this year. Today it is wonderfully sunny out, a good day for a walk and to notice blooming things. I took the photo for this blog about a week ago. I thought the beautiful, delicate flowers blooming on the cacti was an amazing contrast to the dry, stiff plant. Life out of dryness. Yesterday I walked by the cacti again and the flowers were wilted, curled up. If you don’t observe moments of grace, of bloom, of harvest right away, the opportunity is lost. Today, though I fight feelings of depression, I will seek those grace-filled moments and be grateful.