Living

Foggy Living

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I try very hard to not live in a fog. I see people so caught up in their own small issues or creating their own personal drama they don’t see life hurling past at the speed of light.

I do find myself in a fog more often than I would like. I was in one this evening. I walked through the park and said my prayers. It did not help much. I got home and made a mega list. It did not help much. I started on my house work. It did not help much. He arrived home and naturally saw I was not functioning properly. He took the time to listen and to talk me out of some of my fog.

Someone I love is having a health crisis. Two loved ones actually. It would seem something like that would clear my brain. But, it makes me pause. I am reminded of my own mortality and the limits of my physical body. I am anxious to make my time count. Am I doing the right things each day? Is my life counting for something greater than my own melodrama?

Yes. I do the best I can with the tasks set before me. Whether at my 9 to 5, at home, at church, tagging along after him, participating in family events. But, still I feel I am missing something. What is causing that nagging feeling that I am missing some element in my life?

I don’t know. I am continually working on that problem. Every day some time is devoted to that very problem. It is the reason for the lists. It is the reason for the digital tape recorder I always have handy in case some thought arises while driving or when otherwise unable to write it down. It is the reason for walking as often as I can. It is the reason for this blog. It is the reason for my journal. It is the reason I go to the deer stand in the cold dark morning to sit alone in the woods.

Find and fulfil your destiny. My son and daughter seem to have worked it out. They have made their destiny. I know they aren’t continually satisfied and I know they have had heartbreaking decisions and choices to make and with which to cope. But, I believe they are mostly satisfied with the life they have and are creating for themselves. Fearless. Or at least saddling up anyway. They have taken life by the horns and made it what they want. He has blessed them with His protection and His healing and they have faith in Him.

He also has great faith. Without his faith and his prayers of faith, I would not be sane. I would have gone completely over the edge. I have been blessed because of him. He has time and again brought me out of the depth of despair with his courage and his strength. He lifts me up to Him. So many times have I let him know I was having problems at my 9 to 5 and he immediately prayed and He immediately answered, smoothing out the wrinkles in my emotions and often completely resolving the actual problems.

The fog still comes in at times. But, there is a strong light beyond burning through to reach my heart and mind. He and his Lord never give up on me. Even if I never find whatever I seek through the fog, I will always have their lights to guide me back into the clarity of love.

 

A Room of My Own

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Recently, we have worked on making a space for me to piddle. I needed a desk and storage space close at hand. I also needed a spot for a small book case.

This is a big house. But, I needed a spot that could be private and closed off when visitors come. I didn’t want to have to pick up a mess in the middle of a project when having company. I didn’t want to worry about supplies being where little hands could come to harm. I need our bedroom serene and our public rooms uncluttered. I need the guest room clear of messes. His work room is too full and too chaotic for me to share with him.

There is a large pantry, or utility room, as Mother called it. I call it the wash room. Washer, dryer, second icebox, upright deep freezer, small sink, a closet with deep shelves, a built in storage pantry. Lots of room for a desk, too. I now have a spot. I am enjoying the space very much.

I am surprised at my response. It was with some reluctance I decided to try out my idea. He has been nothing but supportive and helpful. He helped bring home and put together the desk I found at the second hand store. I am typing this sitting here at the desk. Listening to the rain outside. The lamp sitting up high providing soft light to work.

I also share this room with our puppy dog. He has not bothered anything in here. I did have to move his kennel bed out. I will store it in the shed in case of emergency. We retrained him to sleep on his blanket in a different spot in the wash room.

I don’t have all my things sorted and set up quite yet. I am taking my time and arranging as I go. I would also like to get my iPod loaded up with music and have a speaker hook up to listen. I need a no-tick clock, too. I have a digital clock to put in here. But it is on the back porch. So I need the no-tick clock for the back porch when I move the other one in here.

I am hopeful this new arrangement will lead to greater creative expression. Both with words and textiles. With paper or canvas and color, too. I have things to work on. Now, I have a place to work. Oh, no. That means I have fewer excuses.

I am working through a book about developing creative expression. I have worked the book previously. It was about five years ago. I have golden memories from the first time through it. I am expectantly hopeful to have an even better experience this time through.

For anyone interested, it is Finding Water by Julia Cameron. She is better known for The Artist’s Way. I have it also. Finding Water was better for me. Although I confess it has been a long time since I explored The Artist’s Way.

So many projects in my plans, so many books to read, so many things to study, so many words to write. I am trying to keep at it. Keep showing up. Do the work. Let go of outcomes. Let Him work out what He wants me to learn. Creating with the Creator, Himself, watching and encouraging. Awesome feeling. Even when it is just a simple stitch or a few paragraphs on a blog post. Even when it is just my old coloring book and chest of crayons. Maybe is it simply the quietness that allows me to hear His still small voice. “Here, child, have an orchid.”

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