It's great the RevGals want to send me to Paris.
I can't go because my life is here. Everyone gets the itch to run away from the disaster zone but few of us up and go. I'm not going anywhere but will pray and muddle through.
I wonder what it is like for people who grab a credit card and a passport and leave when the world presses in? Do they call home when they arrive at the Hotel D'ieu on the Rive Gauche to let the home folks know they are ok?
As a child, I could run away by hiding under the dining room table, going to my playhouse in the backyard or just not answering if someone called for me. Maybe I could get on my bike to speed down the fast turn at the far corner sailing around the block. Best yet, I found a book and jumped into the pages to escape far, far away.
Most of the time, I like being an adult. I'd rather be an adult than a child because I don't want anyone telling me to turn off the light, stop reading and go to bed. I like being married, having a schedule of my choosing and being part of the larger community.
You don't run away when you are an adult.
You answer the phone. You straighten the house. You deal with whatever comes your way with as much grace and faith as you can muster.
If I get under the dining room table, I better have a vacuum in my hand to explain why I am there. If I go to the greenhouse, which before-the-storm had a "playhouse" feel, I have to watch out for the 'possums and other wild life who live there now in the ruin. My bike was stolen, so no riding down the hill of Sharon Road. As for losing myself reading, I do that still.
I will muddle through and things will get better and I'll be fine, by God's grace.
I've been through stuff before so I have experience. I'll lean on God's good care vigorously and see what happens.
Looking at Monday,
St. Casserole
3 comments:
There is a great poetic line, (Maya Angelou, I think) that goes something like this:
"...and cherish mostly the leaning..."
A great friend who can see me start to 'list starboard' from 2,000 miles away keeps reminding me to write this on muy heart.
Lean in, sister.
I too often feel like heading somewhere else, anywhere, Paris. Someplace that is not here, where the day is filled with memories, with troubles and fears, and painful human emotions.
I wish that Mayberry existed. It is where I would run to. A place where kindness is at the core of all solutions.A place where bad things are just not that bad. A place where problems are solved in 30 minutes.
Without that, I too will muddle through, knowing things will get better, keeping my chin up, holding my heart tight, and believing, as I must, that maybe, just maybe, kindness will be the solution for all problems.
Expeditus
You are such a grown up. The church and your neighborhood are most fortunate. Nevertheless . . .
Can we still send you to Paris sometime?
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