So here I am picking it all up today. It's Saturday. It's beautiful, and I did repeat the Saturday morning run to Hardee's. Promise I am not an old man, running game at Hardee's. I'm all shades of wore out, P.S., Jeff County Bounty sits on 25-70 at 2 places on my lovely scenic drive to Dandridge. Not that I'm speeding, but I am trying to get ahead of the old guy in the miata that drives 40 all the way TO HARDEE's! Where I am usually going on Saturday morning! SO I ALWAYS HAVE to leave by 7:30. No later. Which sucks. DO I love Hardee's that much? no. I am just THAT lazy on Saturday. I have to be at work at 8, and usually NOT in the mood to make breakfast, or even have a bowl of cereal. Why not cereal? It hurts my mouth when I hurry to eat it. Why am I in a flurry of hurry? BC I set the alarm for 6:45, but don't get up till 7:15. Now don't get bijiggity on me, but I'm delicate and need sleep. I am on a great sleep schedule, and no one is taking that from me. (Unless you look like a big white dog seeing yourself in the microwave door!) Here I am poo poo heads.
Repurposed. You were made beautiful. Here we are, looking for our own paradise. We hear the answer in a Bob Dylan song. I feel encouraged. Even with the rocky beginning. We had a rough start to the day. Resilient survivor. Submission. Diplomatic. Our paradise is a running little dog. It's a moment where we sit under the stars on a blanket. Getting that sip of cold water. Do you see it? The want. Flush desire. Being frugal in our pandemonium. Holding each others hands. Hoping. I realize our battle against debt is very weak. There's always something coming at us in our boats. I pray to be like Peter and walk on water. I pray for faith of that measure. When faith like that comes about, nothing can slip out of your hands. You just have to correct your vision. IT is never about what I want, it is always about His will. So we will put our vision on what matters and what is real. Look past the POV. Sit back and admire. And realize where the milk and honey flows from. Enjoying the role as a vessel, we long to be watered. Used. I run dry and cry out, fall out, fall on my face. I have to know where I fell from, to go where I need to be. Careful not to be prideful, understanding the balance of humility and grace. The rocks, the mountains, the trials will not be the focus. What's on top, what lies beneath the surface. The eyes we use, the glasses we look through. Our cups continue to overflow. Blessed. The riches have the pleasure to roll in, I long to have a grateful heart.
I could be broke but becoming a rich soul has more rewards. I got down on my hands and knees and scooped a tunnel with a plastic spoon. When spoon upon spoon continued to break, I got into the good silver and used them to the fullest potential. When I was digging I found a tool to help me in my effort. A small hand shovel. Which did the trick. There were nay sayers. There were times of pity. There were times I cried when the dirt filled my eyes. But I didn't stop. When I thought about the novel, I started digging furiously. When I remembered what mattered, I felt the baggage in the dust. I smiled even though it was difficult. I didn't give up because all I could think about was the Big Cheese. There were times I was so nervous that I couldn't be accepted because I worked in the tunnels beneath you. It didn't seem to matter too much though. I struggled and tarried and figured it out. There were moments when the flame went out and all I could do was feel my way through. But I did it. I was fearful. I hated it. I took my eyes off the prize. I may have started off on a unhealthy foot and the stay in the stay in the hospital proved fruitful. I still have dirt underneath my fingernails. No matter the bath, I am who I desire to be.