At times, my heart becomes black and blue from the concerns that come my way. I find myself overly concerned about my children, about home things, about him.
I say “overly” because I believe worry to be a futile waste of energy. I want to be concerned enough to pray for them, to spend time helping them, to tell them I love them, to gently guide or present another view. But, to be so concerned that I become fretful is not a good thing. It shows lack of faith.
I confess I have been overly concerned about my son and his wife during their recent travels and their island move in progress. They are managing just fine. He is just more relaxed about everything than I am. I like having a detailed plan and definite commitments for big things like they are doing at the moment. He seems to fly by the seat of his pants, like his father. They are both successful men and have each other for conferring and helping when needed. I need not worry a bit.
I encouraged my daughter to try to refrain from becoming distressed about situations in her life. In fact, I have been doing that a lot recently with her. She is getting married, moving, changing jobs, all this summer. Just one thing at a time. Patience. His timing is perfect. Regarding a loved one’s illness, I simply said, find out what you can and pray. Not much else to do for the situation right now.
I am not so very worried about him today. Things are going well for him. I am always trying to feed him healthier foods. He is trying to like it. I told him I don’t want to be a widow for my last 30 years, since I intend to live to 102!
As for myself and home, I got a few things done. But, I was too late to salvage one project. It will have to redevelop. I am set up to do it now, though. Our yard is looking so good. The grass is green from all the rain. Even in the flower beds! The rain has been steady recently limiting the opportunity to work on some things.
I started a special project the first of June. When I get more done on it, I will talk about it. I don’t want to diffuse my energy and focus by discussing it yet. Suffice it to say, things are going. Not as quickly as I would hope, but I am not losing confidence of the final result coming sooner rather than later.
Yes, my heart gets black and blue. But, then I recall what I have survived and to what I have to look forward. And my heart feels better. Great thing about it, I don’t have to wait for the bruises to fade. Just a moment and the miracle of Mercy can make it rosy red again.
There is one black and blue I love to look at over and over. On a special day, in the middle of the ocean, where molten rock once met salty sea, I found a perfect black and blue: