The Week that Was

TGIF, but not in the true sense as I'm rather fearing the weekend. It's one I fear every year because it gets so built up and expectations are high, and then .... whump. I missed my walk tonight and my back is reminding me of that. I missed my supper because my gut said "no, leave me alone." I miss my mom because I can, even though she's just a phone call away. I always miss my Gramma B. and am not sure why she has been in my mind so much lately. Maybe I do know. Her life was a struggle, she lived simply and without fanfare (Little House on the Prairie comes to mind), she persevered through the worst of the worst emotions, physical struggles, psychological pain, and she was a survivor. She had next to nothing but wanted no more. She survived longer than she wanted to. Her faith was her life and she lived it day in and day out. She was the one I'd hop in the Corvair to go visit when things weren't going like I wanted them to. I'd surprise her on a Saturday, and the bread would always be warm and the sugar cookies fresh. She listened. She loved. She reminisced. I usually cried. Her face would light up when I asked her about "when she was a little girl." I see her in me so much lately because I want to go back to that simple, less complicated life. I have been reveling in solitude lately and that sort of scares me, but I enjoy DQT (thanks, Pastor Mike) and a seemingly more organic life. In some sense, it feels like surrender. I'm ready to give up lots of "stuff" for that simple life, smaller abode, cheaper gas, lower profile, hands-in-the-dirt sort of life. Tomorrow I'll start with the push mower in the yard and we'll see where that takes my thoughts, prayers, and dreams. The smell of the grass triggers all three.


I'm holding some high expectations for next week, that it treats me better than this one, that it brings some hope and promise and renewal for what lies ahead. There are plans, this I know - for wholeness and not evil, for a future and hope.
Jeremiah 29:11

Tea tonight: Jasmine