Wait

Waiting.  I could write the book, but you wouldn't be impressed.  No, it's been a long, hard, haul full of whining and pining and the wait continues. Waiting has been the bane of my existence, the rock in my shoe, the proverbial dangling carrot.  God has promised me a husband and I have dutifully sat tight (but not too tight, 'cause I'll test the waters ever so often just to make sure the pie is still cooking) waiting for the green light and, at 47, I'm still sitting.  

I wish I could tell you that during my 25 year (yes, 25 years) long wait, I've been heroic and patient - a real Joan of Arc - but that's not the case.  A great many of my moments have been pockmarked with debilitating impatience, fits of anger, pouting and other unsavory cajoles to quicken the delivery up just a tad.  None of which has worked.

I'm not proud of how I've handled the wait.  At times, I've humiliated AND disappointed myself - it just hasn't been a pretty sight.  On more than one occasion, out of rage, I've chosen to regard the Father with disparage and scorn to punish Him.  Needless to say, it has availed nothing.  One time, things got so bad that He literally told me I was nanoseconds away from choosing evil over good, for good and to decide wisely.  I listened.  At the end of the day, I love God and want to obey Him so I snapped out of it, but its been an uphill climb...   

I've had to learn what it means to become patient, to lay down my desires at His feet and simply to trust, time and again.  These have been near excruciating lessons to apprehend (for who, in this day and age, wants to be patient?), but they have been necessary.  Had I been given what I so dearly longed for years ago, I would have destroyed it.

I've had many false starts with partners, the endings of which have often been brutal.  This time, I'm doing things differently.  I haven't dated (not even online) in a chunk and I feel readier than I ever have in my life to meet someone, in fact, I feel primed.  We'll see what happens.        

        

  

Freebie

I’m a late bloomer, what can I say?  Everything in my life has taken and is built upon its own sweet time but the irony is that at heart I’m an extremely impatient person.  God knew what He was doing, however, when He brought everything in my world to an almost complete standstill after I got saved.  Forward motion for me has thus consisted of tiny increments imperceptible to the naked eye and it’s still that way.  Rare and few are the times I can look back and see speedy changes and timely results.  He has always delivered, but almost always chosen UPS ground when it comes to the outcome.  Now I see the logic, as there was a time where I barreled forward to my destruction at the speed of light with no brakes in sight.  Thank God for His wisdom.  

I’ve had to learn (oh God have I learned!) patience and waiting and simply chopping wood, carrying water on a consistent, steady basis.  In other words, doing the next right thing in front of me while I wait for the package.  But in hindsight, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  That He cares enough to tailor a method to teach me the lessons I so dearly need to learn and show me how to savor the moments of my time with Him is gold.  I wouldn’t have it any other way, even though the seemingly geriatric pace has often been the bane of my existence.

Ultimately, I believe we get what we need, not what we want (in large part) and thank the good Lord for that.  None of us truly know our own best interests and are therefore incapable of mapping out a master roadmap for ourselves, if not out of selfishness.  God knows what He's doing, so don't worry and enjoy the ride.      

About Time

Sitting in my room listening to the quiet patters of falling rain, my thoughts turn to growth.  Not  physical growth (I'm holding steady in that respect), but the change in my inner being, psyche and thinking, which has been nothing short of miraculous.  As I look out the window at the grey, dreary afternoon whose daylight is wrapping to a close, I marvel at how even keeled I feel.   

There was a time when I’d look outside during the dark winter months and feel my soul shrink right before my eyes.  I was always so moody and prone to reacting to outer stimuli, whatever the source, that looking back, I liken who I was to a giant barometer.  Things like the weather and peoples moods once had the power to send me reeling as I had less control over my reactions and, was much more prone to internalize everything I came across, including my own emotional landscape.

I won’t say that I’ve arrived, as we are always morphing as human beings, but it is good to put the proverbial stake in the ground and sit for a while, recounting the changes and steps forward I’ve taken, guided by the invisible hand offered me so many years ago now.  My moods have gentled, thoughts become more even keeled, as opposed to jagged trains of words I’d have to catch and unravel with some effort.  I’m more composed, confident and, I feel whole, not like before where I felt I was made up of so many pieces just trying to hold it all together.  And people notice the change.

Scene shift:  it’s 6:00 Wednesday morning.  I’ve just had coffee and breakfast and am back in the saddle of my writing chair.  Settledness is a sensation I can honestly say I’ve never experienced on a regular basis, until now.  The swiftly tilting planets within me just never let up their motion and I had no choice but to follow behind like a dutiful pooper- scooper running after a horse.  The emotions and moods that sloshed around inside me like an ocean during a storm were always threatening to bleed into the fabric of my day and often did. 

What a joy to feel composed.  What a treat to feel empowered and competent in my own skin, to not constantly feel like I have to prove and demonstrate the validity of my being, my worth, because I already know it deep down inside.  People take me seriously now, because I am doing the same.  I never thought I’d arrive at such a state of personal wellbeing.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was beginning to thrive and at almost 48, it’s about time.       

Ode to a Cat

Ode to Gracie

Gracie she is and Gracie she'll be,
kitten and princess and muffin to me.
She's fluffy and puffy, chubby and cute 
with gigantic eyes and funny to boot.

She squeaks when I touch her and makes little sounds,
she startles easily and hiding abounds.
She'll test out my vitals by checking my breath
to see, when I'm sleeping, if I've passed to death.

Once certain I'm living, she'll stretch out a paw
and scratch on my hand with one tiny claw.
"Come feed me" she'll say in her own kitten way
"Wake up from your sleep, I'm hungry, obey!"

The thing about Gracie, she'll pester and nudge,
then politely bow out when she sees I won't budge.
I couldn't ask for more
she doesn't scratch, hiss or bite,
she's a sweet little kitty all cuteness, no fight.

She might not enthrall with her antics so small,
or make you laugh 'cause she won't chase a ball,
but if you fall back and give her a chance
and not expect any big kitty dance,
you'll see that her ways of being and meowel
are O so funny, that you'll fluff up a towel
and ready a bed in the midst of your heart,
so she can curl up, forever to start...

God, a Fugue in A Minor

So, I love Him, but it wasn't always that way.  No, I remember the era of slinking through the underbelly of SF counting on a prayer to some conjured "batch of the day" god of my imagination to help me make it through the night.  Each day, it seemed, I'd whip up a new flavor of divine assistance, depending on my mood, to help ease me into those twisted moments of yore that proved to be so nasty.  Some days it was music I venerated, others the Buddha.  And still others, perhaps, a rock.  I realize now that everything I tried to find my solace in was created, whether being, object or sensation and, in and of itself, utterly useless to my wellbeing (can the inanimate give birth to life?).  In short, I hadn't yet reached the end of my rope and so willingly grasped at every harebrained "path" that flew my way instead of the maker Himself.

It wasn't until I sat at a table one day with my last and final meal in hand, ready to oust myself a bite at a time, that I realized I'd truly reached the apex of my misery.  Had a friend not called me, "coincidentally", at exactly the right moment, I would have been lost to all avenues of hope.  Her voice, warm and friendly, parted the rapidly closing curtain around my soul and, for an instant, I saw life.  I must've chosen well, 'cause here I am almost 15 years later praying to a God, this time, who I can't hear, see, smell or touch but that is more alive to me that anything I've ever experienced.

Like the woman at the well who sat with Jesus in the noontime hour and, astonished, ran to tell a whole village of the Man who told her everything she ever did, so am I.  Stunned and humbled by this love, I too, run a race against myself to spread the good news proclaiming Jesus is real, and that He loves and calls us by name.  What else is there?

My life today differs vastly from the disjointed, fragmented ball of wax that was my previous existence.  My moods have improved, mind has cleared and a joy has taken up residence in my spirit.  I've a score of thriving friendships and can count on myself to show up responsibly and thoroughly to every event of my days.  It's been this way for years and just keeps getting better.  My journey with Jesus has kept me grounded, sane and anchored in safety - plus, it's been fun.  And as for the experiences that haven't been peachy, the brutal ones that've knocked me off my feet, that invariably knock on the door no matter who you pray to?  Well, lets just say I now have someone to fall back on...

God is real, He is good and He is love.  As for the fugue?  Here's the last of it.