Awakenings

This morning I awoke to snow.

Tabletop

A friend shared a North Carolina sunrise while it was still dark here in AZ; it prompted me to look for this morning's sun.

I was in no way disappointed.

Mile high AZ.

I sat at my kitchen island, listening to the drip of melting snow and the whine of not-quite-a-puppy-anymore Giup.  I made microwavable rice (with chicken broth, and soon to be drenched in butter, salt and pepper) in an attempt to avoid fast food later that day; I didn't go in to work until 2, and I knew I should take a hike.

But I didn't want to.

My body and mind cry for the release of stress; my eyes often welling up and tears flowing freely.  It's been a very unusual week, and waiting for a house to sell doesn't improve my mood, either.  Having pink eye might be another reason.

It's Christmas this week, and for the first time in 30 years, I didn't send out cards.  Money is tight, and my heart too full.  I'm learning not to dread days but to be neutral-it's not me but it's better than the alternative.

Good things are happening; I had an epic little date with Lad.

Star Wars:  The Force Awakens

I was disappointed; it felt like fan fiction.  The next morning I felt like this:

Interestingly, only Ian & Shawna agreed.

The skies, however, never disappoint me.

People disappoint me, even though they don't intend it...and I'm learning to let it go.  In the long run, it doesn't matter.  Is this a callus I am forming?  Maybe.

I'm just tired of expecting a little, and receiving nothing.

It's Christmas.  I'm expecting nothing but to be with my family, and that's enough for me.  That's just how it has to be....for now.  And that's ok for me.

My Hope is Built on Nothing Less

"The world just isn't ready for you," he said.

I spent an hour last night chatting with a dear friend I hadn't seen in a few months.  As I shared my angst, his soft chuckles reminded me of why the friendship had endured:  his ability to see through my Lithuanian dramatics and bring me back to a place of logic and reason.

Have you ever noticed how dramatic it is to go through a car wash?  I mean seriously, there's this crazy element of possible danger...

 

The element of possible danger.  Is it why we stay, hurt and bruised, instead of moving on?  Is it better to be injured and unhealing than risk the possible danger of the unknown?  Having just recovered from 22 weeks of a broken hand, I know healing is better.

 

In the past few weeks, I have regained the ability to fit into all of my skinniest jeans.  Last night, I noticed they weren't fitting as well...they were even looser!  The King claimed I was losing muscle.  I asked him to grab my butt; he was quickly reassured that was not the case.

 

I stopped listening to the experts at least a month ago.  I hike once or twice a week - and my legs and backside are proof of it.  I eat a freaking "lunchable" of chicken poppers and pretzels for lunch, and gorge on junk food (if I want it) in the evening.  At least twice a week I do add a smoothie to my morning (who knew spinach, plain yogurt and a banana was so good?)  And then there's buttermilk.  It soothes my very soul.

 

My sister-in-law sent me a Michigan hoodie in a Star Wars pencil case, and reminded me to look for my favorite things...at work I see this:

Too many favorite things here...the poinsettia, the red licorice from my favorite volunteer Ka, the history periodical (because I work in a museum!) and the steampunk con flyer...

Another friend told me I have the coolest dad ever, and informed me that he knew that because I talked about my dad all the time.  My daddy makes me coffee every morning, and I admit that's pretty cool.  He also fixes cars, is very handy and loves sci-fi, airplanes and the internet.

I share his love of the last three!  We took a coffee selfie, it had 76 likes on Facebook!

 

Yet lately it seems I shed too many tears.  This is wrecking havoc on my body, with first an eye ulcer, then a migraine, then a cold sore, and this morning, pink eye.

Please don't suggest supplements.  I don't need to add righteous indignation to my growing list of emotions.

So I truly believe "the best is yet to be," and purposed to make the best.

Redecorating!  Surrounding myself with trimmings from Mackinac, my place of peace.

And while searching for a local place of peace, and thinking I was a cool off-roader, I did this to my trusty Durango:

Boulders are often larger than you realize when you have no depth perception.

So this morning I turn on KING classic Christmas radio out of Seattle, weep a little more (maybe I can clear up pink eye by crying?  It's worth a shot!) and I remind myself of the good in life.

Friends (near and far...but I am truly missing terribly the ones who are far)
Family (all healthy and whole.  One cannot ask for more.)
Sunshine (so thankful for the blue skies, too)
Rocks (even though I hit one rather hard - the beauty of the Dells and the surrounding mountains is breathtaking)
Coffee (no explanation necessary)

and this:

Pauly's new street tacos at Nastee Dogs.  OH.  MY.  WORD.

But most importantly...

Jesus.

'Tis the season of our Savior's birth...and as my world melts down around me, as everything I've known changes and is rearranged, as I learn I will never be rescued by the man I thought would never let me go, and the world just is "not ready" for the ideas and wonderment I have to offer...I have peace in just this one thing.

My Savior.

Not a man, that he should tell or act a lie, neither the son of man, that He should feel repentance or compunction for what He promised.  Has He said and shall He not do it?  Or has He spoken and shall He not make it good? (Number 23:19)

I am brought back to Isaiah 54; my mainstay throughout widowhood...and again relevant as I am heartsore. 

Set in antimony...I smile out of curiosity.

My Hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness.

I've got this.

No.

He's got this.