Sufficient Grace

Yesterday, someone observed, "You haven't put anything new on your blog in awhile." No, I haven't. I suppose it's nice that somebody noticed. There are volumes I could have written, but the things taking place in my life of late aren't really the sort of things one wants to publish for the world to see.

It's been a gray spring, in more ways than one.

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 But, I don't suppose you want to hear about the confusing weather of a Pacific Northwest springtime, nor do you want to be bored by the laments of a twenty three year old heart that doesn't know what it's doing. Neither do I.

Instead, perhaps I shall tell you about my new spinning wheel, and the three bags of dappled charcoal fleece I acquired yesterday? Or the musty stack of children's literature anthologies I dug out of a used bookstore and toted home to my over-stuffed bookshelves? Or, the new apartment I have found (big enough for my brother and I to live together), in a creaky old boardinghouse--cozy on the inside, Halloween's worst nightmare on the outside? Or the $260 traffic ticket for failing to stop entirely at a deserted intersection?

You see? Life just keeps trucking along. It doesn't care if we are flying high or desperately climbing out of a dark hole, if the horizon is wide before us or we're trapped by constraint. It just happens.

Truthfully, I've come up against some dashed hopes this spring, in a complicated way, and for the sake of others involved, I'll spare the details. Suffice to say, I've been misunderstood by those who are supposed to know me best; they made hasty assumptions, and my fault is that I waited too long to tell them what I really knew to be true. There was some hurt on all sides. I was angry, mostly at myself. (I still am.)

A week or so ago, my sister handed me a Kleenex and told me, "Well, as long as you know you're not broken. Different, but definitely not broken." Which was nice to hear. Meanwhile, well-intentioned people keep asking the proverbial "what-are-your-life-plans" sort of questions, which I used to think would dissipate once I was out of college. That was my plan, see. I did it. Now they want another one. Which I haven't got.

If I could plan life, I suppose I would work a little, write for children, do relief nursing in other parts of the world, and run a specialty wool shop. But I'm not planning life, not really. But I know Who is.

His grace is sufficient for all thorns in the flesh, for all disappointments, for all consternations--of which I am in good supply at the present time. My apologies for the ambiguity of such a statement, but I suppose it's a thinly-veiled hint that if you know me, prayers on my behalf would be very much appreciated, at least until the gray skies clear.

Many thanks.

 

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