It's that time of year...politics is getting boring, and ugly, and ridiculous. These people have only been running for what - two years? (Or four, or eight, or whatever in the case of some of them who loose and try again.) As the conventions approach and there's really nothing left to discuss as far as who the candidates will be, there seems to be nothing worth reading, or talking about, or discussing for the millionth time. We should just have the election now and get it over with.
This week was the Texas primaries - finally! For while Texans gripe and complain that on account of their primary being so late they have no voice, it's their own confounded fault. You've probably heard around about the problems Texas had redistricting. Because, apparently, they can't draw a line. You would think that would be simple enough. William Barret Travis did it at their all-hallowed Alamo. Oh, but that's right: William Barret Travis was from South Carolina. Now there's a state that can draw a line - and call it the Stars and Bars.
Truly, Texas didn't have a whole lot to say this past week. The one important seat (Senator Kay Bailey Hutchinson's in Washington) goes to a run-off for both the Republicans and Democrats. (My choice came in on a low 4th, but I cast my vote so I can complain if I want.) My local state Congressman sent me a lovely e-mail saying how grateful she was for my support. I thought about sending her one back and informing her I didn't support her at all. In fact, I did my level best to get her out of Congress for one simple fact: she doesn't do her job. Don't call yourself a representative if you don't intend to represent your constituents. On a county level, the guy that lost tax assessor still hasn't bothered to publicly congratulate his winning opponent. Apparently, he didn't play baseball as a kid and so was taught to shake the other team's hands and say, "Good game."
In the county in which I live, Texans proved to be Texans. The incumbent sheriff lost, very likely for one simple reason: his parents didn't name him Davy Crockett or Sam Houston. The guy who did win was named William Barret Travis, after his all-hallowed ancestor. Of course, he probably doesn't know either that his great-great-great-whatever was actually from South Carolina (where he learned to draw lines). For Texans at the voting booths are easy to predict: they vote for Texans. Because, you know, Texas is the greatest state in the Union. They have the best economy, the most jobs, the lowest percentage of unemployment and how many times can Governor Rick Perry open his big mouth and say Texas does not need federal funds?
But let's get a few things straight. Unemployment is low because the millions of illegal immigrants that Texas politicians do nothing about (unless you count funding their medical, educational and everything inbetween "needs") are willing to stand on certain corners in town and be hired to do just about anything for the day. And in a state where landscaping is more important than water to drink or building more restaurants in greater demand than preserving whales; they can work every day of the week and then throw their money back into the economy (a.k.a. eating out every night). And Rick Perry is getting federal funding by sending his state's national guard into the fiercest areas of Afghanistan while the Texas border is a local war zone he ignores. Why? Well, if you're going to let them come over the border, you have to pay for their education and straight teeth, right? That's what wins votes - even illegal ones. Exactly.
So, welcome to Texas politics. Or anywhere politics. It's going to be a long five months until November...
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
It is Finished! (Well, close to finished...)
I took a long weekend (in the hospice business, you don't really get holidays as dying doesn't stop simply because the calendar date is marked in red - in fact, that usually means someone is going to die...which someone did), and with it finished the outside of my dollhouse. Well, mostly. There's several hours of touch-up work to be done: some trim that needs to be added and painted, some holes that need to be filled and then painted, railing to purchase and stain for the balcony, a light purchased and installed and the rocks need to be sealed just for safekeeping. Once that is done, it will go on it's display stand in my bedroom (for the inside will be a work in progress as just about everything needs to be purchased). But all in all, you are now seeing the finished project...and I'm quite excited about it (at least as excited as Melissa Michele Sturm ever gets, which isn't very).
A close up of the chimney.
A close up of the front bay and porch area.
Kitchen side of the house.
Living room side of the house.
The inside as it is right now. There will be a lot of work to do in all the rooms, plus making the edges and such look nice.
My dollhouse...maybe in needs a name.
Friday, May 25, 2012
The Grass is Always Greener...well, Maybe Not
It's easy to look at someone else's "problems" and wish you had them...because yours don't look so grand. For right now, in some ways, it seems like my life is going backward. Although as I think on that, it's more like I'm peddling the bicycle of my life backward but still going forward thanks to momentum. It didn't help when the social worker at work (who's a friend) told me this week of how fast forward her personal life seems to be headed. Yes, I envied her.
Of course, it's not like her forward peddling is all peachy keen. She was telling me of some of her speed bumps, but all I could think was, "Really? You're concerned about that? That wouldn't trouble me at all." And isn't that why her grass looks greener? Because her problems wouldn't bother me while they are very serious to her? Exactly.
So I stand in my not-so-green field, looking out over her much greener field (for the sun is shining at the right angle on her grass - at least, from my perspective) and turn around to look at someone else's field. For isn't that the way it is? We're always looking over our respective fences, comparing what the other garden is growing? And on the other side...well, that field may be green but is so dark you can't tell.
Linda, our home health office manager, got word this week that her son-in-law (who is like a son to them) is being shipped to Afghanistan. And not just Afghanistan in general but to the border of Pakistan where the fighting is fierce and because some American GI lost it on account of the stress of his job the powers-to-be have decided that our soldiers there can no longer have artillery backup. They get the gun in their hand - and that's it. He leaves in just a few weeks for training, and aside from a ceremony in July when he can see his family, will not return until August 2013. And that is, of course, if he returns at all. He's young - not quite my age - and leaves behind his even younger wife, twin 4-year-olds and a 1-year-old. Their grass seems very brown indeed.
At the end of the day, my grass is rather green. Maybe it just needs a little water. And as a kid, I always found it great fun to be able to peddle backwards but still go forward...even if it was a little slow. For the rain will surely come, and I will soon be peddling forward again - probably uphill. Meanwhile, I need to learn to be content...and pray for those in fields around me.
Of course, it's not like her forward peddling is all peachy keen. She was telling me of some of her speed bumps, but all I could think was, "Really? You're concerned about that? That wouldn't trouble me at all." And isn't that why her grass looks greener? Because her problems wouldn't bother me while they are very serious to her? Exactly.
So I stand in my not-so-green field, looking out over her much greener field (for the sun is shining at the right angle on her grass - at least, from my perspective) and turn around to look at someone else's field. For isn't that the way it is? We're always looking over our respective fences, comparing what the other garden is growing? And on the other side...well, that field may be green but is so dark you can't tell.
Linda, our home health office manager, got word this week that her son-in-law (who is like a son to them) is being shipped to Afghanistan. And not just Afghanistan in general but to the border of Pakistan where the fighting is fierce and because some American GI lost it on account of the stress of his job the powers-to-be have decided that our soldiers there can no longer have artillery backup. They get the gun in their hand - and that's it. He leaves in just a few weeks for training, and aside from a ceremony in July when he can see his family, will not return until August 2013. And that is, of course, if he returns at all. He's young - not quite my age - and leaves behind his even younger wife, twin 4-year-olds and a 1-year-old. Their grass seems very brown indeed.
At the end of the day, my grass is rather green. Maybe it just needs a little water. And as a kid, I always found it great fun to be able to peddle backwards but still go forward...even if it was a little slow. For the rain will surely come, and I will soon be peddling forward again - probably uphill. Meanwhile, I need to learn to be content...and pray for those in fields around me.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Expect dry weather over the next 6...what?
So, it's summer in Texas. Well, it's been that way since, like...well last May; but I mean it now officially looks (again!) like summer in Texas. You know: brown grass, dying flowers, stickers, thistles, grasshoppers. Oh, wait - it always looks like that. Minus the grasshoppers.
Haley and I mowed this weekend. Not an easy task when most of the yard didn't need it, but it all looks even. May be the last time we need to do it until...oh, October or November. Guess that's one advantage to living in Texas: the mowing season is extremely short since the grass dies, grows green for a few weeks, and dies again. Lovely.
Checked the 10-day forecast just a few moments ago. Don't know why. Hoping against hope as usual, I guess. For I can tell you the forecast for the next four months: dry, hot, no rain, dry, hot, no rain, dry, hot, no rain...you get the picture. And sure enough the next ten days will be dry, hot and have no rain! I bet you can't live anywhere else in the world where the weather is so predictable.
I had to laugh, though, at one of the boxes in the corner of the weather site. (For if I didn't, I'd cry...) It read "Expect dry weather over the next 6 hours." Really? Try "Expect dry weather over the next 6 months." Meanwhile, Melissa isn't going to be as Elijah and pray for rain. She's going to pray for a way out. She's just not sure how strong her faith is...
Haley and I mowed this weekend. Not an easy task when most of the yard didn't need it, but it all looks even. May be the last time we need to do it until...oh, October or November. Guess that's one advantage to living in Texas: the mowing season is extremely short since the grass dies, grows green for a few weeks, and dies again. Lovely.
Checked the 10-day forecast just a few moments ago. Don't know why. Hoping against hope as usual, I guess. For I can tell you the forecast for the next four months: dry, hot, no rain, dry, hot, no rain, dry, hot, no rain...you get the picture. And sure enough the next ten days will be dry, hot and have no rain! I bet you can't live anywhere else in the world where the weather is so predictable.
I had to laugh, though, at one of the boxes in the corner of the weather site. (For if I didn't, I'd cry...) It read "Expect dry weather over the next 6 hours." Really? Try "Expect dry weather over the next 6 months." Meanwhile, Melissa isn't going to be as Elijah and pray for rain. She's going to pray for a way out. She's just not sure how strong her faith is...
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Minor Complications
This week I bought a toothbrush...because I was way overdue for one. (And overdue for a dentist visit, but we'll take care of that next month.) I almost forgot I had it until I went to brush my teeth before bed. I pulled it out, struggling to open the package as everyone does these days, and was quite happy to have a new toothbrush to brush my not-so-sparkling-but-very-straight-thanks-to-braces teeth. Finishing that, I absently placed it in the holder...well, I tried to place it in the holder.
The toothbrush did not fit in the holder. As I contemplated on this, I figured out it's got to be a racket between the toothbrush makers of the world and the toothbrush holder makers.
The toothbrush makers say, "We're going to make wider toothbrushes. So, no one will have a holder to fit those. You need to make larger toothbrush holders, which everyone will have to purchase. Then we'll both make money."
"Perfect," say the toothbrush holder makers.
And so we all go to the stores, purchase new toothbrushes, take them home, brush our teeth, and try to put them into the toothbrush holders. But they don't fit. So, the next day we return to the store and purchase a new toothbrush holder. Problem solved...for about six months.
Because at the end of six months, it is time to purchase yet another toothbrush (unless you have a dentist who gives you a decent one when you visit, but everyone is cutting corners these days). So, off to the store you go to purchase your favorite color (or super hero or whatever), bring it home, rip open the package in frustration, and brush your teeth. Then you place it in your holder...only this time it slides all the way through and lands in your sink...
For now that the toothbrush holder makers have supplied all the fat toothbrush owners with new holders, the toothbrush makers said, "We're going to make thin toothbrushes - after all, thin is in. All these toothbrushes will fall right through the wide holes. You'll need to make new holders, and we'll both make more money."
"Ingenious," say the toothbrush holder makers.
So, now all of us with the new thinner toothbrushes that we don't want lying in our sinks dash off to the stores and buy thinner holders.
As you can see, this is a vicious circle. But there is one solution to this problem: buy a cup. Once size fits all toothbrushes.
The toothbrush did not fit in the holder. As I contemplated on this, I figured out it's got to be a racket between the toothbrush makers of the world and the toothbrush holder makers.
The toothbrush makers say, "We're going to make wider toothbrushes. So, no one will have a holder to fit those. You need to make larger toothbrush holders, which everyone will have to purchase. Then we'll both make money."
"Perfect," say the toothbrush holder makers.
And so we all go to the stores, purchase new toothbrushes, take them home, brush our teeth, and try to put them into the toothbrush holders. But they don't fit. So, the next day we return to the store and purchase a new toothbrush holder. Problem solved...for about six months.
Because at the end of six months, it is time to purchase yet another toothbrush (unless you have a dentist who gives you a decent one when you visit, but everyone is cutting corners these days). So, off to the store you go to purchase your favorite color (or super hero or whatever), bring it home, rip open the package in frustration, and brush your teeth. Then you place it in your holder...only this time it slides all the way through and lands in your sink...
For now that the toothbrush holder makers have supplied all the fat toothbrush owners with new holders, the toothbrush makers said, "We're going to make thin toothbrushes - after all, thin is in. All these toothbrushes will fall right through the wide holes. You'll need to make new holders, and we'll both make more money."
"Ingenious," say the toothbrush holder makers.
So, now all of us with the new thinner toothbrushes that we don't want lying in our sinks dash off to the stores and buy thinner holders.
As you can see, this is a vicious circle. But there is one solution to this problem: buy a cup. Once size fits all toothbrushes.
Monday, May 14, 2012
My Mom
Another Mother's Day has passed...a time to reflect on the mother God has blessed me over and above with. Every year I learn more about the gift of my mother...and I shall probably never stop learning.
I guess having grown up that way, I never think much about cooking, and baking, and cleaning, and moving, and all that. I can't remember eating much out of can - chicken noodle soup or tomato if I was sick, but everything else my mom made. Store bought cookies were a treat. We cleaned house every Friday like clockwork, everyone rotating through the chores. And when we moved, we even impressed the professionals my mom had it down so well. So, now that I'm on my own, I cook, and bake, and clean, and move. (Well, the latter only once thus far on my own and I have to confess I don't clean weekly like clockwork.) But I do cook and bake, which astounds people. I'm not sure why.
And I have that to owe to my mother. For when people ask how I learned, I just shrug and say, "My mom." And it's no fault of my mother that I can't sew, or crochet, or knit. She tried to teach me - I just had no interest. But I can show off the skirts and things she sews for me with great pleasure. Apparently, I'm a successful tutor, especially at math - which is ALL my mother. And the fact that I am a successful woman (more-or-less) is a credit to my mother.
So, once again I rise up and call my mother blessed for more reasons than I can name...or probably even know.
I guess having grown up that way, I never think much about cooking, and baking, and cleaning, and moving, and all that. I can't remember eating much out of can - chicken noodle soup or tomato if I was sick, but everything else my mom made. Store bought cookies were a treat. We cleaned house every Friday like clockwork, everyone rotating through the chores. And when we moved, we even impressed the professionals my mom had it down so well. So, now that I'm on my own, I cook, and bake, and clean, and move. (Well, the latter only once thus far on my own and I have to confess I don't clean weekly like clockwork.) But I do cook and bake, which astounds people. I'm not sure why.
And I have that to owe to my mother. For when people ask how I learned, I just shrug and say, "My mom." And it's no fault of my mother that I can't sew, or crochet, or knit. She tried to teach me - I just had no interest. But I can show off the skirts and things she sews for me with great pleasure. Apparently, I'm a successful tutor, especially at math - which is ALL my mother. And the fact that I am a successful woman (more-or-less) is a credit to my mother.
So, once again I rise up and call my mother blessed for more reasons than I can name...or probably even know.
Friday, May 11, 2012
The Storm After the Calm
April was oddly quiet. I counted up yesterday we admitted nine whole patients (2 were re-admits) the entire month and might have had that many deaths or discharges, but probably less. Most days I was working on my own personal stuff while waiting for the phone to ring. I knew that could only many a storm was brewing on the horizon. This week it hit...in full force.
Monday wasn't too bad. One admission and two from the weekend. That was good because all of April's billing cleared through and I had spreadsheets to play with and invoices to create. Tuesday started out oddly, but I didn't think a whole lot about it except to commiserate with my friend Jenny. That afternoon, a tornado came through the office. Without the novel-length backstory, Jenny and I ended up racing down to Dallas at 3:30 to get to the City Hall and vital records department before it closed at 4:30 in order to get a birth certificate. We made it even though I didn't know where I was going (but Dallas isn't near as difficult to navigate as Boston), retrieved the certificate and went back to the office to fax it to a funeral home in Houston (praise God for HOV lanes!). That calmed that storm to a steady drizzle.
Wednesday: Exactly how many referrals can one nurse stack up in one day? This week: four. And that doesn't include another later, the fact that she already had an admission the next day to handle, the one from Monday was her's as well as one from the weekend, and several of the eleven patients she already has are actively dying. She talked the NP into letting another nurse help her. Meanwhile, I cleaned off my desk. There was no way I could stack another six admissions on top of the seven I already had without going insane.
All those referrals accumulated into three admissions on Thursday, plus she received two other referrals. We dished one out to another nurse (for Monday), she admitted one today, and she postponed the other til Wednesday. In numbers all this equals seven admissions in one week, with two already on the calendar for next week. In one week we have equaled our entire month of April. And after three days of spinning circles, frustrated because I can't keep any of these new patients in my head like I usually do; today has been very quiet. But maybe I shouldn't say anything...it's only 2 o'clock.
I also figured out this week that I really need a dog. I'm housesitting this weekend for a woman with two Sheep Dogs named Lilly and Jade. I went over after work yesterday and we played fetch in the backyard with a ball and frisbee for about 20 or 30 minutes. It was so relaxing to toss the toys across the yard, watch them catch or fetch them and bring them back to me. I would love to go home to that every day!
Monday wasn't too bad. One admission and two from the weekend. That was good because all of April's billing cleared through and I had spreadsheets to play with and invoices to create. Tuesday started out oddly, but I didn't think a whole lot about it except to commiserate with my friend Jenny. That afternoon, a tornado came through the office. Without the novel-length backstory, Jenny and I ended up racing down to Dallas at 3:30 to get to the City Hall and vital records department before it closed at 4:30 in order to get a birth certificate. We made it even though I didn't know where I was going (but Dallas isn't near as difficult to navigate as Boston), retrieved the certificate and went back to the office to fax it to a funeral home in Houston (praise God for HOV lanes!). That calmed that storm to a steady drizzle.
Wednesday: Exactly how many referrals can one nurse stack up in one day? This week: four. And that doesn't include another later, the fact that she already had an admission the next day to handle, the one from Monday was her's as well as one from the weekend, and several of the eleven patients she already has are actively dying. She talked the NP into letting another nurse help her. Meanwhile, I cleaned off my desk. There was no way I could stack another six admissions on top of the seven I already had without going insane.
All those referrals accumulated into three admissions on Thursday, plus she received two other referrals. We dished one out to another nurse (for Monday), she admitted one today, and she postponed the other til Wednesday. In numbers all this equals seven admissions in one week, with two already on the calendar for next week. In one week we have equaled our entire month of April. And after three days of spinning circles, frustrated because I can't keep any of these new patients in my head like I usually do; today has been very quiet. But maybe I shouldn't say anything...it's only 2 o'clock.
I also figured out this week that I really need a dog. I'm housesitting this weekend for a woman with two Sheep Dogs named Lilly and Jade. I went over after work yesterday and we played fetch in the backyard with a ball and frisbee for about 20 or 30 minutes. It was so relaxing to toss the toys across the yard, watch them catch or fetch them and bring them back to me. I would love to go home to that every day!
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
My New Toy
Well, this weekend I got a new toy. I've been thinking about a new laptop for a year now, ever since I used a friend's MacAir and told myself, "I've got to get one of these!" Of course, they cost a little bit of money...and I'm not a big spender. But I told myself after my birthday that if I saved enough, I could buy it. So, I saved my pennies (well, dollars...or twenties) and after a hassle and a half with Best Buy (so much for the customer service I always thought they did well at), I got it. This is the first time I've used it to post my blog...thus far, it works quite well.
Haven't had a lot of time to play with it, really. Work has been quite busy these last two days. Maybe because I'm in charge. Well, sort of. I'm not in charge of the nurses (me even suggesting meds would be dangerous, although I know comfort kits are always good - yea for morphine!), but I'm suppose to be in charge of everything else while my boss in on vacation. Not that I've done anything grand, although I did grant our marketer Friday off. Naturally, this position is temporary. But I did get a permanent promotion. I get to use the signature stamp - for, according to my boss, I am a very good stamper. I'm just wondering what sort of raise in salary comes with that...
Haven't had a lot of time to play with it, really. Work has been quite busy these last two days. Maybe because I'm in charge. Well, sort of. I'm not in charge of the nurses (me even suggesting meds would be dangerous, although I know comfort kits are always good - yea for morphine!), but I'm suppose to be in charge of everything else while my boss in on vacation. Not that I've done anything grand, although I did grant our marketer Friday off. Naturally, this position is temporary. But I did get a permanent promotion. I get to use the signature stamp - for, according to my boss, I am a very good stamper. I'm just wondering what sort of raise in salary comes with that...
Friday, May 4, 2012
Bubbles!
So everybody knows that bubbles are fun: blowing them, popping them, chasing them, bathing in them. I thought on Wednesday night I would try some bubble artwork with the kids. I saw you could mix bubbles with paint, blow the bubbles with a straw and then lay paper on them so they created painted bubbles. Well, forget the paper or the artwork. My three 4th graders had a lot more fun spending the next ten or fifteen minutes blowing small bubbles, big bubbles, hives of bubbles, families of bubbles, and whatever else bubbles can be in the imagination of ten year olds! Not only that, but the kids in the younger class were very envious. One offered to be my best friend and give me a million dollars if I would let him join my class. Four-year-old John just looked at me with his adorable eyes and begged. Mental note to self: if I can't come up with anything else for class, bring bubbles.
Frankie: my creative scientist who liked the beehive look.
Matt: the one who frightenly reminds me of me and tried to blow the biggest.
Kate: you can tell she has only brothers to compete with as she was trying both the beehive and biggest bubble look.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
The Fear of Courage
I wouldn't call myself a courageous person by a long shot. After all, I haven't a great deal to be courageous about. My world is very small. The enemies I may have are like the enemies everyone has: people that simply don't like you for whatever reason. I don't live in a country where I am persecuted for my faith - yet. Nor do I live in a place where I could be harassed for casting a vote of conscience - again,yet. But it is amazing what it can take courage to do.
I was talking to a friend this week about some fears that I have. Most of my fears relate to not doing what I should be doing. Last week it seemed like every other person told me how gifted I am at my job. Which led me to wonder if I'm so "gifted" is being between four walls of an office behind a computer shuffling papers what I'm supposed to be doing for the rest of my living days? Give up dreams and hopes of being a wife, having children, writing books...After all, I don't measure up by half to the Proverbs 31 woman. If I married, would the guy end up hating my guts for making his life miserable? If I had children, I could make enough mistakes to ruin their very souls. And writing? Well, I've yet to be convinced I'm any good at that in spite of what some people have said. I'd be much safer between my four walls behind a computer shuffling papers. At the most, I could hope to find four walls, a computer and some papers in a place where there are mountains a beautiful season called winter. For if that's the gift God gave me, would I be wrong to leave that for what I would love to have instead?
My friend quoted Proverbs 3:5-6: "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths." Yeah, yeah. I've known those verse for thirty years. I don't need them quoted to me.
But later I got to thinking about them...and about what I consider one of the biggest failures of my life. I've always felt that failure had to do with my lack of courage. I was afraid to stand my ground simply because I didn't want to loose something I held very dear. So, I kept my mouth shut...and lost it anyway. Since the outcome was the same, the least I could have done was said something, right? Yeah...if I had had an ounce of courage.
Courage isn't the absence of fear. If you had no fear, you wouldn't need any courage. I suppose, like most people, my greatest fear is the unknown. I want change. I hate feeling trapped in an office and cry at the idea that I could be trapped in one til the day I die instead of having children in my life, and living somewhere beautiful, and maybe writing a book or two worth publishing. But if I actually grasped the courage and stepped out on it, what would I loose in the process? And that is my own understanding. That's not trusting in the Lord, telling Him my desires and fears (even though He already knows them) and begging Him to fulfill them as only He knows how or turn them in the direction best for me. If I would do that, then "He shall direct my paths". No more feeling trapped, afraid to turn. It was then I realized that it takes courage to trust the Lord.
Thinking all this is just the tip of the iceberg. Truly trusting God with the way my life is as well as the desires of my heart is a work in progress - probably a lifetime work in progress. I just pray I will have the courage to trust just enough to see God's loving direction...and accept whatever that is.
I was talking to a friend this week about some fears that I have. Most of my fears relate to not doing what I should be doing. Last week it seemed like every other person told me how gifted I am at my job. Which led me to wonder if I'm so "gifted" is being between four walls of an office behind a computer shuffling papers what I'm supposed to be doing for the rest of my living days? Give up dreams and hopes of being a wife, having children, writing books...After all, I don't measure up by half to the Proverbs 31 woman. If I married, would the guy end up hating my guts for making his life miserable? If I had children, I could make enough mistakes to ruin their very souls. And writing? Well, I've yet to be convinced I'm any good at that in spite of what some people have said. I'd be much safer between my four walls behind a computer shuffling papers. At the most, I could hope to find four walls, a computer and some papers in a place where there are mountains a beautiful season called winter. For if that's the gift God gave me, would I be wrong to leave that for what I would love to have instead?
My friend quoted Proverbs 3:5-6: "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths." Yeah, yeah. I've known those verse for thirty years. I don't need them quoted to me.
But later I got to thinking about them...and about what I consider one of the biggest failures of my life. I've always felt that failure had to do with my lack of courage. I was afraid to stand my ground simply because I didn't want to loose something I held very dear. So, I kept my mouth shut...and lost it anyway. Since the outcome was the same, the least I could have done was said something, right? Yeah...if I had had an ounce of courage.
Courage isn't the absence of fear. If you had no fear, you wouldn't need any courage. I suppose, like most people, my greatest fear is the unknown. I want change. I hate feeling trapped in an office and cry at the idea that I could be trapped in one til the day I die instead of having children in my life, and living somewhere beautiful, and maybe writing a book or two worth publishing. But if I actually grasped the courage and stepped out on it, what would I loose in the process? And that is my own understanding. That's not trusting in the Lord, telling Him my desires and fears (even though He already knows them) and begging Him to fulfill them as only He knows how or turn them in the direction best for me. If I would do that, then "He shall direct my paths". No more feeling trapped, afraid to turn. It was then I realized that it takes courage to trust the Lord.
Thinking all this is just the tip of the iceberg. Truly trusting God with the way my life is as well as the desires of my heart is a work in progress - probably a lifetime work in progress. I just pray I will have the courage to trust just enough to see God's loving direction...and accept whatever that is.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)