The dog days of spring have sprung and I’m all “I think I can” to get through every single day of homeschooling and living. To spread a blanket on the grass and nap my life away like the dog sounds heavenly.
On the other, a burning passion to clean every cupboard, purge all the Things, and basically drive my family crazy with lists and plans to make our lives More Better makes our little gray cells run on overdrive. The end of the scholastic year is near and summer is coming and we must be READY to do everything!! Yay!!!!
I need a nap.
Brian is married to a person of extremes. Either all or nothing. On or off. Up or down.
Hot or cold.
They are a patient lot, these loved ones, mostly, and with minimal frustration, are part of my binge-nap to thrift-store-donate-throw-it-away-purge extremes just as they have encouraged, supported, held me accountable, loved me through all of the other zeniths and doldrums of my personality.
An introverted, obsessively analytical, brain held captive by an anxiety riddled soul residing within a personality blind to many of the social cues and relational markers which are needed to help anyone maintain deepening and enlightening relationships can be a bit overwhelming at times and that’s me. In a nutshell.
I like being alone. I really, really like being alone in my own head where I can think and over-think everything like a glutton at an all you can eat buffet. When I think about All The Things, I wonder about all the people and remember all the conversations. When I remember all the conversations, I question who was sincere and who wasn’t… Did I fully engage or did I check out? Was I offensive? Often, I don’t know when I am… When the self-doubt hamster gets on the wheel, I will quickly withdraw from all the people. They are too mysterious and I have so many thoughts in my head.
Until, quite suddenly, I am afraid.
It’s time to go back to the drawing board. Sort those cards on the table. Make neat piles of comprehensible data. Discard the factors that don’t fit. Except, all too often, I’m the factor that doesn’t fit.
Resigning myself to awkward solitude and, even breathing a sigh of relief, I withdraw into a little quiet space somewhere between a funky brick wall and the well-worn wood on a small table.
If you have ever met me in person, or if you read my Facebook updates, you’ll probably be tempted to say I’m a big, fat, liar.
I can’t tell you enough how much I need to hear, “But God…”
I can’t tell you how many people have laughed at me when I show this side of me exists and let them in on the secret that it dominates much of what I do.
See, I can play the socializing game adequately. I ask the questions, guide the conversations, and stay in safe territory for a while.
Until, quite suddenly, I can’t. It is obvious, to me, that this ugliness of self-absorption, fear, and hopelessness would define me every single day, if I had no hope, If I had no other options.
Turn my eyes from looking at worthless things; and give me life in your ways. Psalm 119:37
My two favorit-est words in the entire English language are:
He dissolves the binding webs of fear and weaves in its place a tapestry of love and peace. Beauty from ashes when He provides the strength to sit and sip and talk and love beyond any measure I possess alone.
So, I put on my shoes, freshen lipstick, and venture out to meet the faces. Often standing in front, I offer this tiny faith, pitiable gifts, to an Infinite God who, somehow, makes something worthwhile of the offering.
My eyes are drawn to look away from the fear and the hopelessness, the confusion and the desire to focus on worthless things.
I have one purpose and one hope; that God can keep me and will protect me in my weakness while life happens, in spite of me, because of God, and He is beautiful.
And, this process of redemption proves that this overwhelmingly fearful coward can become brave, even bold, for He has given me life.