New Beginnings

There are times when we need new beginnings.

You are not alone…

Nothing is unfolding for you the way you had planned…or it’s unfolding and you’re still unfulfilled and unhappy.  There is a nagging exhaustion, frustration, anger, restlessness.  That is me.

I had to ask myself over and over, what is it I am created to do?  Who am I created to be?  What is my calling, my contribution.  I knew once I found it…and responded to it…success, peace, contentment would find me, regardless of my circumstances.    It’s a path I’m still on, but one that is much clearer to me.  To find it, I was in prayer, study and coaching.

As an introvert ignoring my own needs, I ended up exhausted, unfulfilled, resentful.

Calling all introverts who, like Nehemiah and like me, hear their calling but feel totally unprepared, unworthy, unable…all the “un’s” and you’re doing your best to hide from all that God created you to be.  Emphasis on “be.”  We are human beings, not humans doing.

Tiptoe if you must…and take action, baby steps are just fine.  Then ramp it up!

The String – is there a code?

 

I’m beginning to experience this influence in my life that is both perplexing and fascinating:  I’m collecting and saving string.

Maybe that’s just being a good steward of the earth and her resources … or is it something more sinister … like an old-person-universal-genetic-code.  That once you reach a certain age, you must collect string and wrap it in a little but expanding ball.

There was a day when I laughed at my father-in-law for his collection of string.  I was cleaning his house and suggested we throw out this varied conglomeration of string.   He looked at me like I had three heads.  Beyond surprise,  his shock accompanied a firm protested.

Well, Carl, today I’ve channeled your habit and I am quite proud of my growing (and useful) collection.  You were a wise old codger.

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Snowy Hillsides

I was watching the boys behind us sledding down the hill.  I remembered wonderful times of sledding down hills.  Winton Woods Golf Course with Dad, when their hills were open to sledding.  Ice skating and sledding at Aunt Irma’s and Uncle John’s.  The boys guarded us well on those toboggans.  We laughed, our noses were runny, the sun was shining.  The older cousins shoveled the snow off the pond so we could ice skate.  Life was best when Joe showed up.  He was dreamy. Continue reading “Snowy Hillsides”