being of good cheer, belated

the air conditioner hums it's artificial tune and further in the distance, a whole hallway down, "clifford the big red dog" can be heard on the television set in the living room. the boys are in screen time heaven today- i am laid up with an injured back, a sad and immobile excuse for a mother. i don't do well when i'm like this. it's hard to 'rise to the occasion' when i can hardly rise at all. i'm certain most moms with a tweaked back would find a way to be more creative in such a situation-i know my own mother would have had me and my sisters painting or organizing buttons in muffin pans, but i'm completely deflated on the proactive front. pbs kids seems good enough to me. the half empty/full bag of frozen corn on my back is a permanent fixture until it thaws and then the heating pad will take it's place.

less than a hour ago my sister left in a town car set for the airport. her company had her out here working an event and she was able to stay afterwards and spend a couple days with us. we got pedicures, of which prompted us relating to this video later on in the evening, we brunched at a very brunchy place, strolled the scene, got unimpressed at LACMA, went to church together, rode the ferris wheel, ate at a legendary hot dog stand, and had dinner on our patio every evening. it was so much fun that my back in recovery couldn't bare it, literally.

i was suppose to restart my training this evening at a local restaurant, now i no longer have the job. it's a very interesting development, and quite honestly, i'm having a hard time making much sense of it other than i'm really not suppose to waitress. which sounds ridiculous, i know. but if you read back on the previous entries, and then you take into account i finally do get a server position but the day before i am to start i wake up unable to get out of bed so the next day i ice/heat my back all day, get a massage, and muster up the mobility to go in-of course i'm not able to lift anything so they tell me to go see a doctor and when i'm better come back, which i do on friday-planning to restart that coming monday; only to wake up monday morning with my back in spasm, again. needless to convey, i no longer have the position.

so what is next, i ask God-i ask myself, and, where do i go from here???

i feel perhaps that i need to stop thinking, debating, making pros and cons lists, and just Do. do something, do anything... not waitressing, clearly, but something else. there are desires and interests out the wazoo, some so Big and some so Epic that the practicality has always presented itself as unachievable for a mother of young children or, as in the past, a twenty something with limited oppurtunities. if God is in it then of course that argument goes flying out the window, but oh the challenge of knowing and then the courage and tenacity to act on such knowledge.

unlike last time when i encountered a similar set of obstacles, i'm accepting this time around with a more positive outlook. we either get stronger or weaker, and i'm thankful at least i'm stronger having gone through the confusion and disappointment before-knowing He works all things together for my good and i don't need to understand it for it to be so.

on such a thought- i'll end this post and think upon this poem:

"We may wait till He explains,

Because we know that Jesus reigns."

It puzzles me; but, Lord, Thou understandest,

And wilt one day explain this crooked thing.

Meanwhile, I know that it has worked out Thy best--

Its very crookedness taught me to cling.

Thou hast fenced up my ways, made my paths crooked,

To keep my wand'ring eyes fixed on Thee;

To make me what I was not, humble, patient;

To draw my heart from earthly love to Thee.

So I will thank and praise Thee for this puzzle,

And trust where I cannot understand.

Rejoicing Thou dost hold me worth such testing,

I cling the closer to Thy guiding hand."

 

Streams in the Desert

F for Imagination

rummaging through a large box of childhood mementos my mother recently mailed to me i came across multiple graded papers from my school years. most of them deserved the grade or comment they received, but some of them, well, it’s no surprise i’m refusing to send my own child to an “one size fits all” sort of school.

in 1988 i was nine years old. i was too young to be pretentious and too old to care whether or not i was perceived as “cute” anymore. i was sincerely me. i’m thankful i had a few good teachers in the swell of awful ones, and i’m more thankful my parents did what few others did for me as a child: encouraged my individuality and celebrated my uniqueness. next to this elementary poem my sweet mother added a few more comments on a small post-it,

“Your teacher meant to say,

‘Impressive Work!'

or

‘Original and Creative!’

or

(my favorite) ‘Future Author"

may our words be life, a slice of light! thanks mom.