Thursday, December 08, 2011

This Strange New World

I'm sitting here in my little nook at the library, listening to Scott McLean crooning "Time" in one ear while the cars on main street play a different kind of melody in the other ear.
I would be writing, I'm nine thousand words into the book I started on November 27th, (code named mmmm) but the errands between shifts took too long today, so here I sit, piddling on the Internet because there isn't enough time to really write.
It's a strange sort of existence I live these days. I get the kids on the bus early, really early, then tidy up the house, maybe throw the ball for the dog. I head in to work, run errands, work some more, get the kids, feed them, and fall into bed earlier than any grown woman likes to admit. I come to the library every chance I get, check the emails and networking sites, miss friends I never get to chat with anymore.
The librarians are getting to know the kids quite well. There is an ever growing tower of books and DVDs on the counter at home of things we need to return. Tali is reading two at once I think, either that or she has given up on one and I need to find it. James goes through them like water. He waited over a week for the latest "Wimpy Kid" and had it done in a day. He must be related to me or something. Jordan is less happy with the library, but she is just getting her reading fluency up, someday, someday.
I'm still waiting for one of them to fall in love with Potter.
Every few days something happens to churn up the waters again, and I deal with it, or just let God handle it if I can't do much about it.
It's hard, but it isn't, and I haven't really thought about it enough to put it eloquently I'm afraid. It's like I'm one step away from survival mode at all times, and yet have been blessed with an extraordinary amount of peace and other forms of God-sent aid.
The generosity has been staggering, but it isn't the generosity or the deprivation that has forced me to learn about humility. No, what I am learning from is the walking in the dark.
I don't know my next step, and it is terrifying not to have at least that much pinned down or plotted out. I do know one thing though, there is this little pin prick of light at the end of the tunnel, and God would not shine that light at me if I wasn't supposed to go towards it. So I'm not going to worry about what dangers lay at each side. I'm just going to keep putting one foot in front of the other and trust. Every time my foot lands on solid ground I am thankful, and often a little surprised. This is the scariest thing I've ever done, but I trust the one who laid my path, so I'm going to keep walking it.
My love to you all. I am so sorry that I am not there for my internet friends like I used to be. I miss listening, I miss helping from afar.