This is not a list *Diane S.* This is just an accumulation of some thoughts I have this morning.
I’ve started and ditched a handful of posts this month. I’m really struggling with my writing. It’s not a block; more like a cement dam. Thank you for your patience and encouragement. I was really hoping that my committing to writing every day in November would help. So far, not so much. I can’t even come up with a stinkin’ list to irritate Diane S.
I haven’t been with my bff, Gym, since the week before Beach Week. That was July. You do the math. That tells you how wicked my fibro flare-up was. Now that I am well on the other side of it, I have been begging Thomas, my acupuncturist, to give me the green light to go back. I still didn’t have the green light, but I went back this morning anyway. It hurt so good. I avoided the treadmills with a mirror view. But when I hit the weights, mirrors are all around. So I kept my head down. Just hated looking in the mirror. I tried to keep my eye on my workout buddy extraordinaire, Mrs. Hagy. She. Looks. Fantastic. It seems like just yesterday I was dragging her to the Gym. She is all grown up now and kicking some major gym butt. So proud of her. Gym and I will be seeing each other again tomorrow morning. I’m already looking forward to it.
This afternoon, My Girl and I have an appointment with Thomas. This will be My Girl’s first time going. She is not a fan of the needle. This will be interesting. My phone is fully charged so I can capture the moment. My Man will be the hold out, but I’m pretty sure The Big Boy will go for an appointment. Until he finds out he has to give up some of his favorite foods and drinks. It’s not forever. That’s what I keep telling myself. *as I sip my forbidden cup of Trader Joe’s coffee with forbidden cream*
Yesterday’s sermon was on the Prodigal Son. Always been one of my favorite passages of scripture. Not only did I give birth to a prodigal, I was a prodigal. My Girl had nothing on me when it comes to rebellion. I still struggle with it. Some days I hate being a responsible adult. I want to stomp my foot and sass back at whomever is telling me what to do, what I should have done and how to do it. Some days, I am stomping my foot and sassing back…inside, at least. I was reminded of that several times yesterday morning both before church, when I was ambushed about something before I even walked in the doors of the church and right before the service started as I witnessed a major church family fail involving a visiting family. I could have lashed out and expressed exactly what I was thinking. I chose to take a breath and see the big picture. I’m always saying that everyone is a product of their upbringing. I expect Grace and therefore I need to give Grace. Still a struggle.
That’s my mini-sermon of the day.
Love you guys.