Sometimes when life is happening, it is hard to put down in words what you are thinking. It is far easier for me to pace across the floor speaking into a recorder than to try to pound out on a keyboard something that has some sense to it. I don't record, though, because I am lazy and it would make me feel foolish.
I find myself now in a particular place. I am miserable and can't eat. I have talked about "it" with a couple of family members and one or two friends. Still, there is no use. I would feel better if I COULD blog about it, but I can't on many levels. Instead I MUST blog about it in code to God.
What a concept! I blog (not write a private prayer letter in Word) to God on the public net. It makes no sense, yet I feel compelled to do it. I don't know why.
One issue turns into another and another. Doors that have never been open before are now opened, but they are not meant to be used. Personally, I stay away from the doors, but everyone doesn't have that same conviction. Instead, I am at the mercy of another who threw the door open and from a particular perspective, believe that it can be seen, green grass.
What will it take? Pain. Pain that I can't ignore and shouldn't. To avoid the pain would deprive me of what I need to see - need to learn. Yet, just to let Edith Keeler die without trying to lift a finger to help takes great faith in fate.
What it all boils down to is faith and surrender. The ebbs of time are flowing no matter whether I try to swim against the current or inexasperation yield my body over to the stream, bashing my head on rocks along the way.
Somewhere in what only appears to be the vast wilderness is a path that will lead to where I am destined to go. When I get there, battered and bloody, I will eventually walk that path in dry clothes.