Over the holidays I wrote about an incident in which I made a bank deposit and was given credit for one hundred dollars more than I should have been. When I checked into it after I had my knee surgery and could go to the bank in person, I was told to keep it. “Merry Christmas,” the guy said. Also over the holidays, a friend from high school bought a gift certificate for dance lessons. These two surprises, the hundred dollars and the gift certificate money, absolutely saved me when it came time to pay my bills a couple weeks ago. Without either source of income, I would have seriously been up shit creek.

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and we talked about money and how it relates to depression, which we talked about (and I blogged about) a week ago today. First I should reiterate that this time in my life has been quite challenging in a lot of respects, and my knee injury and subsequent surgery have just about pushed me over the edge. Surgery is always big deal, of course, plus the fact that I use my legs to make a living as a dance instructor, and now I can’t dance until this summer. Just last week I turned down a teaching gig because the woman interested needed me to dance with her (because her husband won’t–typical!). My point being that a big part of what causes my worry meter to spin out of control is finances. And sure, some really cool things happened over Christmas, but as I told my therapist, “The universe is really fond of this last-minute shit.”

And I’m not.

Thus, despite the fact that the universe came to my rescue over the holidays, I’ve been worrying ever since. How will I make my next round of payments? Where will the money come from? Of course, I’ve had MY IDEAS. Every time someone calls to inquire about dance lessons, and maybe half a dozen people have contacted me since the first of the year, I think, This is it, God. Now just have them actually take a lesson and PAY ME. Alas, so far God hasn’t taken me up my latest suggestions about how to give me money. I realize this isn’t why God exists, to act as my personal automatic teller machine. Still, we discuss my survival a lot. And hell, this evening at Walmart I did find a penny in the parking lot, so maybe he is listening and I just need to be more specific about HOW MUCH it takes to get by these days. I mean, perhaps God doesn’t keep up with inflation.

I’m sure he’s very busy.

Well, get this shit. Sometime last year–in the spring, maybe–I got a postcard in the mail notifying me that I could be part of a class-action lawsuit, some situation in which the plaintiffs were alleging that the defendants had illegally called them on their cellphones. Or something like that. I honestly don’t remember what the offense was. But I did go ahead and “opt-in” because I thought, Hell, Three dollars and sixty-seven cents is three dollars and sixty-seven cents. Isn’t that how these things turn out–pennies to the plaintiffs? Well, when I opted-in, I found out my chances of a decent return were slightly better than that. As I’d apparently been illegally called about a dozen times (I know it was fewer than twenty for sure), the website for the lawsuit said I could receive anywhere from $20 to $60.

I mean, in my world, that’s dinner and tank of gas.

Okay, so that was it. I sent the postcard in and absolutely forgot about the whole thing. But when I got home from therapy and Walmart today, there was a disbursement check from the lawsuit waiting for me on my bed. (My dad gets the mail and puts it on my bed. Isn’t that cute?.) Three dollars and sixty-seven cents, I’m thinking as I open it. Maybe twenty-five. But no. The check was for three hundred dollars.

Three. Hundred. Dollars.

Y’all, I can’t tell you how exciting this was. To celebrate, I ordered pizza for me and my parents. (My dad suggested it.) More than anything, it was a huge relief. At least for the next month, I feel like I can breathe a little easier. I definitely feel lighter than I did this morning. Not just because the universe saved my ass again, but because it reminded me there’s always hope. Seriously, think about it. What are the odds that I’d end up part of some random lawsuit over annoying telemarketing calls placed years ago and that the whole thing would actually resolve and pay out weeks after I had knee surgery when I really need the cash? I’m constantly thinking whoever runs the show up there doesn’t know what they’re doing, but clearly that’s me.

So I’m admitting it. I don’t know EVERYTHING.

Joseph Campbell said, “Follow your bliss, and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls.” And whereas I’m still staring at a lot of walls in my life, I can say this has been my experience. For the last two years I’ve been living life on my terms–following my bliss–working on this blog, trying to make my dreams of being a full-time writer come true. In a lot of respects, it’s been hell, going against the grain, against what the world deems as normal. Even I often think, Why can’t you just get a real job and be like everybody else? But in other respects, it’s been heaven, following my heart and soul wherever they’ve wanted to lead me. And so far, despite this path being scary as all get out, it’s been okay. More than once, unexpected doors have opened and I’ve been given what Campbell called “magical aid.” Like, today I found a penny! But seriously, even though I’m still astonished when magical aid shows up in my life, I’m beginning to trust that it will always be there. I’m starting to believe that everything–somehow–will be all right.