Have you ever read a blog, and the author describes a traumatic experience or minor kitchen disaster, like a plumbing leak that destroyed their floor and neighbor’s ceiling below? They take an unfortunate, potentially depressing and upsetting circumstance, and when they put pen to paper and relay it to a reader, it’s like the humor can’t help but emerge in the retelling. The author, regardless of original intent to complain about a problem, ends up laughing in their descriptions and story. The joy and laughter of life is found, even unintentionally.
That was my whole point in starting a blog. I felt like I was taking life too seriously. Figured I'd have a better perspective on things if I could just get it down on paper and realize that there was very little wrong. I intended to start this blog almost nine months ago – but I was in school and working; I think there was just a lot on my plate at the time – but I honestly can’t remember what those things were at the time to make blogging so not possible with my schedule.
Since that time, my mom passed away, my husband was laid off (the job ended on the same day as my mother’s passing (!)) and is now following a dream of a PhD and applications are being submitted this week (go, Solid!!), I was furloughed, started a tiny home-based bookkeeping business essentially straight out of school with inadequate knowledge of bookkeeping (currently maintaining a couple of clients with a hint of terror every day that I’ll do something wrong!) and live in what I can charitably describe as a small condo with my husband, puppy, and two guinea pigs. (I thrive in wide open spaces folks. Space to move and breathe. I walk in the door and trip over stuffed and squeaky puppy toys, woodworking items and mitre saws.)
I thought I had stuff going on, and was busy then back in May? What, seriously, could I have had going on at that point that was SO important to not have time to write a few minutes every here and there? I have to laugh at my younger self, still in my twenties, with really no idea of the true pressure, both emotionally and physically, that would come - grief, job and financial adjustments, following dreams, and the intense process of being a part of applying for admittance to PhD/ThD programs. I am astounded that not one or all of these has caused me to search out the nearest overpass, if you know what I mean.
I don't know if I had definitive emotional stamina or strength of spirit before all of this summer's stuff. I tell you, I wonder if I would have gotten to know God like I do if my mom hadn’t very unexpectedly died. My best friend – gone in a moment. My world is still rocked to the core. There are a lot of good days now, but some days I'm still barely still able to make it through work, a movie, or a church service without giving out emotionally. Okay, sorry, not happy stuff at all, but there's a better ending!
I could not promise myself or anyone else that I could continue writing, but fear of the future should not be a barrier to a web-published testimony. God is good – and is near to those broken in spirit. When I reach for God, he is there. When I fall apart and give in to what the world decrees – there is no God – then I don’t have any ability to walk on. When I reach for God, after falling into total distress, if I just do as he said, to believe and have faith, I actually recover, and be stronger for the pain. The morning may be hellish, but there’s peace in the afternoon.
I've re-found joy in life, and love to laugh again. I smile and mean it. I laughed so hard today when I read Solid's blog, and found his latest "tribute blogger".
There's just so much in this world that can go wrong, but so much that can go right. Really looking forward to Christmas.
And bookkeeping rocks!