Waking up at 6:57 am on a Saturday was not what I had in mind to do today, especially after staying up way after midnight, so I turned over and instantly fell back into a delightful slumber. Pues, not as easily as that, and my slumber not generally that exciting, and turning over can be a literal pain. But, the point is I did not get up, rather, I laid there, wasting my day until I finally woke up again at 9 am. Much better! I stretched, thanked Abba for the beautiful gift of rest, flipped off the quilt and my day began!
I wagered that pancakes sounded so yummy...and fattening...but I dutifully bartered with myself and pulled out the cast iron frying pan. As is my way...while the first one lay sizzling in hot butter I eased around the corner to fold last week's laundry. Momentarily, I smelled the aroma aka stench of a burning pancake. I quickly tucked my sheet under my arm and salvaged the first one. Not too bad...a little more butter...another plop into the frying pan. Again, I step away, finish folding the sheets, bend to pick up something else when YIKES a worse smell. I did it again!!! I must have a defunct smeller! As I stood there lamenting the loss of my inedible feast I began to wonder if my life was comparable to a stack of burned out pancakes...that perhaps there's a pun or metaphor in the thought.
Then all these words come filtering through my brain, creative juices flowing, with every ebb and flow of the coffee I am carrying quickly into my room so I can capture the thoughts on paper. I literally have pages and scraps of paper of all varieties to include "toilet" filled with words of inspiration, humor, sarcasm. Having been hit on the head so many times in my life does not give me the luxury of having the capability of "memory" when it comes to my emotions, so I have had to find a way to recall the insight regardless of where I am or what I am doing. Get the idea?!
The first thoughts resonating in my mind this morning as I gazed down at the floor at the book Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert were about my first sense of loss. These thoughts came prior to my breakfast fiasco I might add. I picked the book from the shelf Thursday night after watching the movie version over and over for days. I was traveling when it was first published and picked it up at the airport. I needed to remember something about myself hidden in those pages. Liz shares about being in her twenties, with a great career, married with a great house with all the "things" young women dream of having, and being frightened of turning thirty, not for the reason most people dread it...as the end of youth! Rather, she feared it as the beginning of motherhood, and she just did not share that dream of quilts and babies as part of her ideology. She was a writer, and she had traveled extensively, and she just wasn't ready to give it up...ever! So this book is a story of her spiritual journey of self discovery.
A smile spread mischievously across my face as I recalled my first huge "NO" from my mother. Naturally, it wasn't the first "no" I had gotten in response to dreams and fantasies. You may remember me sharing previously that as an avid reader early in life, on a sunny Saturday or Sunday I hibernated on the big rock in the woods at my grandparents' home reading of adventures in distant worlds. Real or imagined I journeyed on into the depths of dreams. But my fantasies were never about eating rich, Italian dishes or going to exotic cities, mine were more humanitarian, save the world dreams. Kind of like I am living now. Amazing! That day of the "NO," long, long ago, as I was about to graduate from high school, I had decided if we couldn't afford for me to go to college, if girls weren't meant to be doctors, especially "sick" ones, then I wanted to join the Peace Corp. Again I was reminded of my "sickness," so within minutes all hopes were, once again, dashed. She had dreams of me being an artist, and she went to great lengths for me to have the same desire, but I just couldn't grasp that concept of being "good enough." So, she decided nursing school was the right choice for me as a couple of my friends were entering the profession. Turns out that my illness got the better of me again, so another dream, though not my own, was dashed on the brokenness of my heart.
Did anyone notice within the lengthy paragraph above the words, "like I am living now...?" So it seems God in His infinite mercy and grace salvaged the dreams of medical missionary and humanitarianism, and here I am waiting for my next great push to save mankind! As I was ruminating these memories, another whimsical jaunt into my psyche, I questioned my life as a veritable play on words. Here I am being asked to write "the story" when maybe blogging is what I am supposed to do to bring inspiration to those who have nothing better to do than hang onto every adverbial, conjunctive phrase I spout! To search into all life's question looking for answers that are staring them right in the face. A 2016 replay of Dear Abby! Abba Father, tell me, please, this is not what You meant!
Kindly, patiently I can see Him smiling, bending down to embrace me, saying "You've got it!" I quickly recall the last time I asked Him a question about this adventure in scribbling down thoughts when I asked about the vision. That time He spoke..."Child the vision is the same, nothing has changed." So why can't I get it! Honestly though, I do get it, and I have gotten it, and I know that all these attempts to write are not exercises in futility but word studies into the depths of what's lurking in the crevices of my damaged brain cells. I need to draw them out, because "the story" is in the journey of my lifetime and the wonderful people I have met along the way. In retelling "the story" I will give hope to those with dreams that seem impossible, because someone has made them feel insignificant in small ways, not good enough, or smart enough, or rich enough to do this or that. In reliving my amazing journey that's still in progress, someone who needs to hear it may pick up "the story" and find peace.
So begins "the story" as I travel the pages of my countless journals and blogs, as I remember what God wants me to share. Pray for me that I can embrace the world with hope that inspires action, as I am obedient to the One True Love of my life, as we schlep or journey on together.
No comments:
Post a Comment