Thanksgiving

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Thanksgiving

man in white dress shirt and maroon necktie holding hands with girl in white dress

So we’ve got the controversy about whether the Pilgrims were the first Americans at all. And we’ve got the truth that without the Native Americans, the pilgrims would never have survived their first winter. And I bet, at the time, neither group gave a thought to who was first or who helped who. Because when you’re in a situation, you put one foot in front of the other and do what you think is right. It’s us who come later who decide you were a hero or a villain.

Here we are in 2018, putting our feet one in front of the other, trying to do what’s right or lamenting the fact that we’re totally incapable of figuring out what’s right, much less doing it.

I think, because we have so much input from all over the world, that we spend a good deal of our time overwhelmed. And that shuts us down. But at this Thanksgiving, I’m going to  blinder my gigantic screen, and narrow down to what I see in the real world. I think it will help me be more aware, and thus more outwardly focused.

I’m going to: challenge myself to love my neighbor, in my heart, but also with my actions;  take coats to the homeless as the weather here gets colder; check on the widows down the street;  slow and listen to people I love;  purposely hug people who don’t get touched often. And I’m going to thank God that He made me able to do these things, a weak woman, who He makes strong.

Fear and Rogue Wave

construction destruction power steel

Do you think God wants us to be afraid?

I don’t think He has a problem with the respect kind of fear that I had for my dad, and have for God. That fear is synonymous with respect, and doesn’t want to displease them,  so it cleans up my act. I think God’s OK with that. There’s the fear that happens when someone walks suddenly in front of my moving car, and I hit the brakes. I think God sees the need for that fear. There may be others in this camp. If you think of some, chime in please.

On the other hand, there’s another kind of fear that keeps me from living life to the fullest. That fear comes from the experience of consequences.

For example, a loved one expects that I read between the lines of what they say. I don’t, or I misinterpret, and the outcome is that I experience their rage. Now my relationship with that person is one of fear, especially if it is a power down relationship, like a boss/employee or parent/child.

Or I make the mistake of taking my eyes off my child, and in that instant an abductor makes off with my baby. How do I deal with the fear born in that moment? Does God have anything to do with it? This is the question I’ve addressed in my recently complete novel, Rogue Wave. If this line of thought intrigues you, please comment.

Wait, if this line of thought intrigues you, and you’ll leave your email address, I’ll send you the first three chapters of Rogue Wave. If you’d start a conversation with me, I promise to hold up my end.

 

Late, Very Late, Midlife Crisis

flowers fun girl hat

It’s my sister’s fault. (Does this type look really small?)

So, she told me about this set up where you dress based on your personality. You do your hair and makeup that way, too. I took the test. OK, it hit me right on the money. It said I’m a crash bar person. I like to get on with it. True that.

So I watched the videos, and they made sense. So I cleaned out my closet and got some new colors of Crocs and styles of clothes. Then I got a new haircut that moves and changed my makeup away from old lady makeup. I feel good, nah nah nah nah nah nah nah. (Hear the song?)

People are saying, “Hey, you look good.” I’m responding, “I’m having a late midlife crisis.” I guess midlife really is determined by how long you plan to live. I do not plan to live to 140, so mine’s late.

Now, how much does this matter? It’s a good idea to put your best foot forward, and my foot is looking a lot nicer, especially in the dusty rose Crocs. However, I’m still me, a daughter of God, and inveterate crashbar person. I still put my pants on one leg at a time, albeit in deeply colored pants. I may, however, be loving my neighbor a little more than I used to because spending a little love on myself makes it easier to spend some on my buddies.

Thanks, Sistiyounger!