My sister is my best friend. She seems to know what I need even before she knows the need.
She sent this email to me, copied of course, but spot on!
I saw a wooden boat turned upside down on the shoreline of a frozen lake, and the Lord said, "You have been beached for a season. The environment has been harsh and you have been relatively sidelined, but the time is near for you to launch out into the waters of My Spirit and do what you have been called to do. You will begin to navigate your life in a way that will fulfill your destiny and be rewarding at the same time."
"May He grant you according to your heart's desire and fulfill all your purpose."
My mama used to say, "Don't wish your life away." She said that many times when she'd hear me say, "I wish Friday would hurry and get here. I can't wait to graduate. I can't wait to get married and get out of here."
And she was right.
I feel like I've spent so much of my time stuck in the What-if and I wish wondering when the I am will come.
Right now, I am wishing for this job to be done. I am sooo very tired. I don't know that I have ever endured such a beating to my self-esteem. My boss is harsh and hard and wants perfection. While I wonder how good will come out of this, I realize that everything is not about me. Maybe I have been here for such a time as this, to help someone else.
I think of the sweet wife who cares for her wandering husband day and night, afraid that she'll close her eyes or turn her head for a moment, and he'll be gone. She keeps child-proof locks on doors and drawers and cabinets and appliances so he can't drink or eat the cleaning products, cough syrup, rat poison or syrup. She's struggling now with blood pressure and heart issues and she fears what will happen if or when she's gone. She longs to visit her children who serve as missionaries in another country, but there is no respite.
I think of the mother with the special needs adult child who keeps working past retirement just to keep her sanity because she knows there will never be a time when she ceases to be a caregiver.
I think of the husband whose wife no longer recognizes him. She screams at him to get out of her house, because he's a stranger to her now. He's not the young man she remembers. She even screams at the woman in the mirror who is staring at her. She no longer recognizes herself.
I think of a cowboy who made a living breeding, training, riding horses and winning medals. In his present reality, he continues to breed, train and ride. At 3:00 every afternoon, he pushes through to get home to feed the horses. He becomes combative, irate, cursing and fighting for a way to get out of the prison that has him bound.
I think of a broken man who snapped, beat his wife, and landed himself in a prison cell. There he was beaten and broken and left to die. Born with CP, he had to fight his entire life. He continues to fight, cares for his 93 year old mom and will always be a hero in my eyes. His courage and determination amazes me! God is a redeeming God!
I think of a little lady whose words are all tangled between Italy and America. She is convinced it all happened after her son in law threw her in the river. (He didn't) She doesn't know how she survived. Her perception is her present reality.
I hear countless times a day,
"My daddy's a Baptist Preacher."
"I'm from Southwest Georgia, Alllbeenie (Albany), GA."
"Where are you originally from?"
"What time is it? When will my wife be here?"
"Is someone in the bathroom?"
"I've got to get home and feed the cows."
"My daddy will be home soon. He doesn't know where I am."
And from those who can't speak,
it's a push and a shove, a grunt or a bark or a squeal
just to get someone, anyone to pay attention.
Yes, I'm tired. But sad, too. Sad to admit that I can't handle it. Sad to say goodbye even when I know it's in my best interest. Sad because I wonder who will listen now. Oh, I'm not on an ego-trip. I just know that to some, it's just a job. Some don't have time for families. To some, it's all about the money.
So, when you say a prayer tonight, remember these whom I love and leave.