Jumbled Thoughts

Gentle readers.... 

I am always waiting for the perfect time to write my thoughts, and, frankly, there really isn't a perfect time. It's like waiting to have babies or waiting for the job you 100% want.  There is no good time for any of that, you just take the plunge.

 I only wrote one time in December which is maybe the least amount of writing I have done in quite some time.  There might be some lack of content, but mostly it is a feeling of limbo.  Neither here nor there, neither quite settled or unsettled.  It is hardest to express my thoughts and so I wait with expectation for some revelation to strike which will crack open the vault.

No revelation. No brilliant clarity.

But a pile of jumbled thoughts I have so in no particular order....

I'm not so sure about the job I'm doing. It stresses me out every day and it doesn't feel worth it.  I don't know what to do about it. 

I have been walking each day for some exercise and I so enjoy our new neighborhood - the Christmas decorations are unrivaled for any place I've lived.

It poured rain today and several storms with lightening and thunder came through. I loved every minute. You can't ever be lazy here because it is temperate and sunny every day; you feel guilty. It's probably going to be like this in heaven. 

My son has made his way back to me and now he is almost a man. Your kids leave you for a few years, locked in teenage separation, and then they come back and you realize it's almost time for them to leave the nest. He grew up while he was lost and is he ready and have I been successful? Three years is a vapor.... It feels a little like permanent loss. 

There are no friends in limbo, that continues to be a struggle for me. You can't rush it, there is no rushing it. The kindred spirits take their time, but eventually they come.  

I finally changed my google map setting for home this week. I'm tired of typing in the entire address when I want to find my way.  It felt like betrayal. All my starred places are now thousands of miles away. 

Someone that I love is dying. Right now. These are the final days. He will be letting go of this world and taking hold of the next.  This person taught me about chickadees and held my hand on many hikes. This person carried me on his shoulders more than once and always around the last bend of Monroe Falls. I love to hear him say my name. One day I will hear it again.  

I'm hardwired for my people. In all my thoughts...this is what lingers...  

Love. My people. Full and grateful heart. 

Never Alone

 Hello dear ones...

It is the first weekend in December. I'm sitting in bed, not feeling very well, and thinking about every last minute of this year and wondering how I made it to December 4th. 

I think only the love of good people and the grace of a good, good Father. 

I've written about the struggles of this year, both physically, starting off year 40 with surgery and medication to make one crazy;  emptying my life blood on the roof of 6 Temple Hills (someone please drive by and admire it); and then, emotionally, as I closed my life, watched my beloveds close theirs, and then all of us, painstakingly, beginning anew.  January and November were SO hard.  

This old lady has been on one heck of a journey. No more babies. No more leaking roof. No more peeling floor tiles.  No more pharmacy life. No more Scrabble games. No more mexicano date nights. No more colorful trees. No more pine needles. No more Grace friends. No flour. No diet coke. No mask free days. No church. No touching. No breathing. No coughing, sniffling, nor sneezing. 

You know what? Somehow I'm ending year 40 and 2020 with people who love me and Jesus as close as a whisper.   Somehow my dearest people have not abandoned me. They saw me cry a lot this year. They saw me during some (many) of my most anxiety filled days.  They know, like I know, it is with difficulty that we deal with the shifting of our core foundation, and it takes time. Our countenance does not improve overnight.  Our problems do not dissipate with the rising of the sun.  Little by little, though, we make it. And today, I see that I have come quite far down this road. 

In retrospect, I can see as always, God's hands in my life.  Never once did I walk alone. When I tried to hide and cry, God always caught my tears. And more often than not, my husband was not oblivious. (He's too good, that one.)  God bids us come and find rest. For the pandemic weary soul. For the one who is tired of being alone. For the one who is ready to be forgiven and free of guilt. Rest, and a companion for the journey. One who never tires of your desperate cries. "Is that you again, Angela? Come on over here and sit a spell. Breathe. Breathe. C'mon, I gave you the breath of life for a reason. Quit wasting it. Breathe. Yes, that's good, that's good. You can let go of your old life. You can do it. You can learn to like palm trees. You can learn to like SAP, it's not CFRx, but you can do it. You can choose in this life. I made you in My image and I gave you choice, and, specifically, I put a little bit of feisty sass in there. Year 41 is ahead, look ahead, for I am ahead. I'll be with you there. You're going to continue to miss the turn on Louis Henna Blvd, it's just your thing, but keep driving anyway."

Just like that, friends, just like that, I can breathe easier. The Author of my faith is all around.  He is in my past so clearly.  He is beside me and, most importantly, He is in front of me. The world is becoming very convoluted and uncertain, but I'm going toward a city not made with hands and you know what waits for me? A Savior. 

Peace is spoken into the night. All is well. 

Now that I'm quiet, now that I'm still....

The journey has been so difficult. I feel all the emotion my memory eyes can see. Here I am, though, with people who still love me and Jesus just a whisper away. 

It's been good, friends, it's been good. We develop so much in the valley years. Those people who remain only become more dear. Those lessons only add to wisdom. 

In this night, I'm choosing to say goodbye. 

I'll sip hazelnut flavored coffee. I'll tell Jesus I can what you have done here, you have answered my prayers. 

I'm not adventurous but I am learning perseverance. My will is synchronizing for the long term.  

Goodbye to the elementary years of my children. Goodbye to the place I reared them, the kitchen where I plastered their artwork.  Goodbye to the season that gave me the gift of perseverance. Goodbye to young motherhood. Goodbye to youthful perspective.

I am choosing the next step. I am ready to see these kids as drivers and workers. I am ready to make the turn on Louis Henna Blvd. I am ready for the next bend in my road. 

Thank you, Grief, for being with me all through this year. Thank you for helping me to feel. Thank you for helping me to say goodbye so that Joy arrives.  You are ever a faithful companion, but one day, when I get to the city not made with hands, you and I will part ways forever. 

I will look toward my Savior and all I will need is joy. 

Dear ones, thank you for remaining with me. For reading, for praying, for encouraging me this year. From the beginning when some dear souls snuck into NY in a snowstorm, before COVID, because of love; to the end, now with my little family in Texas, alone, and moving forward. Thank you for your friendship and love. May you also find Jesus meets you just where you need Him.  Merry Christmas!