Wednesday, October 17, 2018

Write.

For years, I have sat in prayer, and asked God to tell me what He wants me to do with my life.

The answer is always the same.

Write.

But what?

That's what I always come back with.

What do you want me to write?

It's strange for someone who can sit and blather on for a very long time about almost nothing to be unable to think of words to put down on paper (ok, type) when she sits to work.

Does that make sense?

Sigh.

Probably not.

Not a lot of my life makes sense right now.

I am not where I thought I would be when I pictured this moment in life.

I turned 50 almost exactly six months ago,

This was supposed to be my year.

I turned 50.

Oldest kid turned 18 and graduated from high school.

Second kid turned 16. 

20th wedding anniversary.

All these big things, none of which has turned out exactly how I envisioned they would.

Does it ever?

Really?

I mean, does life ever turn out the way we hope or plan?

I have a friend who seems to be sinking deeper and deeper into a depression.  She has had sick parents and in-laws to deal with, on-going fights with siblings, an economy that seems to have knocked her down more times than you can count - well, I guess that's all of us, really - but as I was listening to her talk about the stuff she's had to deal with lately, I started to wonder, "Is this all there is? We get a few good years here and there, and then we get shipped off to depressing spaces where we lose our memory and our autonomy?"

I don't want my life to look like that. "Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light..." (Dylan Thomas)

The meaning of Thomas' poem is clearly about living life to the fullest.

I can't say I've been doing that.

But I want to.

And I'm going to.


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