Too many parts of my life feel out of control and I've been trying to self-medicate with sugar, carbs, a puppy, and Jesus. Hey, great, at least Jesus made the list. I admit at least I'm not trying to do it ALL on my own. Pat self of self-righteous back.
I'm reading a spiritual leadership book with a group of other Compassion advocates. It's good stuff and the highlighter is getting lots of use. I'm keeping up (within a day or two) of my daily Bible reading. I'm on track to finish my Beth Moore Bible study for the week by Wednesday's group. Gooooo Me!
Eleven days ago I turned 40. I'd given up my "fabulous by 40" fantasy months ago. It was obvious that my lack of exercise this summer topped off by a road trip killed that dream. I killed that dream. Yet I still want to put on my running shoes and prance through 5 easy miles. When I lay in bed at night and imagine myself running...it seems so easy. That's what I want - easy. Pain is hard. It's painful. It makes me breath funny.
The physical manifestation of living my life out of God's control is controlling me. My soul is not at rest and when silly things like my dog getting a bad haircut happen, my family witnesses me sprawled out on the floor whining like a three-year-old.
I'll admit it's not just a sugar addiction, lack of exercise, and a botched "puppy cut" that have me spinning. Life throws some incredible curve balls sometimes and the day after my 40th surprise birthday party was a doozy. From the highest of highs to the depths of despair in a matter or minutes. Our family framework was fractured. So I have a right to wallow. To pout. To sit and stare and wonder, "What God? What now?"