It’s beautiful cool morning at Hamilton High. Joe is swinging away with his batting coach while I’m walking the dogs in the green fields with the ducks and the birds and the kitty hideaways and one frightened turtle, me.
I feel like a turtle and all I want to do is go back into my shell and hibernate or should it be hide-ernate. I stuck my neck out, tried to be brave and now all I want to do is cry, besides the punching thing of yesterday.
Tired of this always being about me. It feels like maybe it’s me I want to punch today. Snap out of it! Move on! Feel better! Stop being a sorrowful mess!
I know it doesn’t work like that but I’m going to to wish it did for just a little while; say a brief moment at a quinceanera? A Quincie that is absolutely not about me and doesn’t become about me as it drudges up memories embedded as deep as my toes?
Do I go to a wedding next week which, again, is not about me, only to tarnish the day with my own embedded-ness?
Or do I welcome God into my process and receive His sometimes hidden gifts? Allowing Him to use the joy of others to bring me healing and rest?
Allowing Him to use His redemptive power to bring me back to my own life of joy through, not around, the joy of others…
I guess I have my answer.
Anne
May 9, 2021
Tripping with God: Stories of Faith and Inspiration 