Saturday, October 3, 2015

Up a Creek Without a Crowbar

This.  This is one of those mornings when all my talk about trusting my Father God feels like I'm a fake.  Because something simple.  Something so so stupid silly simple finds me on my couch crying.  I went upstairs to blow my hair dry, not realizing my sleeping girl had her heater on in the next room.  This house I live in?  This wonderfully old house with character?  Has a screwy wiring system that causes all kinds of dances with plugging and unplugging things like a war room strategy when you go to use something that requires electricity.  So.  Now.  I'm faced with no electricity upstairs and a stuck cellar door, behind which lies the wizard of oz box of fuse control,  that I can't find a single crowbar to pry open......now where does one find a crowbar when one doesn't know if one even has a crowbar?

So.  I sit on my couch and miss my dad who was the only man in my life who came to my rescue and wanted to and could magically find crowbars in the air.  I cry because I feel tired at these times, having to pull up my bootstraps and wipe the snot off my face and be "strong" and figure out what to do next.  I don't wanna be strong.  Not always.  Not right now.  I feel mad at Thomas Edison for inventing electricity.  Where is he now?  I feel mad at myself for not being able to figure out what to do and crying about it.  I feel like the world demands I be independent and hear me roar woman and not want a prince charming and wear army boots rather than glass slippers but sometimes.  Sometimes.....in the dark I whisper out loud...."it's not the truth."

I don't have a solution.  Or a bible verse right now.  I just wanted to tear up kleenex  out loud and throw it.  I'll think about it more in a minute after I've had another cup of coffee.  "It's not easy being green".  I understand Kermit perfectly.

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