Last week I felt like I was being smothered by a dense fog, both literally and figuratively.
Thankfully this week the skies seem a little clearer. Some sun breaks have even been apparent.
So have circumstances changed?
No, not really. Unless you count the fact that I am trying to adjust my attitude and outlook. I am trying to learn to fly better.
“The question still is: How well can you fly it when everything goes wrong? How well can you live when every test, every trial, every proof of your faithfulness is exacted of you?” ~ Robert E. Wells
If I had attempted to write this post last week, many of you would have wondered who had hijacked my blog. The plane I was flying last week crashed. And it crashed hard.
I was tired of being Pollyanna. I was tired of playing the glad game. I was tired in general. Not being able to get more than a 3 hour stretch of sleep at any given time wreaks havoc on a person.
I was also tired of juggling too many plates. So I let a lot of them temporarily fall while I retreated to my own inner world.
I cried. I prayed. I felt angry and bitter and I didn’t let anyone into my thought processes for awhile.
But then I opened up a little and I vented to some good friends who listened well. They reminded me I was not alone in my trials and they let me know it was OK to just let it all out. It was OK to feel this way. It was OK to grieve, for lack of a better word. And soon the fog began to thin.
But where did all the fog roll in from? A lot of it came from having a husband in school for nearly 11 years. He will be finishing up his second Master’s degree next month … but this degree was supposed to be a Ph.D. And it’s not. [Not because of any fault of his own. The adviser he was working under left the University and consequently funding got cut.]
For the most part I have come to terms with that and I was ready to move on with my life. I was ready to be done with school and ready to start a real job. I was ready to have a real income. I was ready to move, to physically move and change locations. Even if we couldn’t get into our own house right away I was ready to move to a bigger place. Our kids are desperate for more space in the house and for a backyard to play in. Nearly every day 3 year old Cory asks when he can have one.
But when is anything in life ever cut and dry? Especially when it comes to Rudy and his schooling?
So here I was thinking we were going to completely close one chapter in our life … schooling … and finally be able to start a new one.
But I was wrong.
Rudy will still get his degree next month, but instead of being able to move, we are staying in our tiny little 2 bedroom apartment. We decided to take a job at the school he has been attending the last 5 years. [In fact he just started part time this week.] It is a dream job for Rudy and it might open up a door for him to still get his doctorate in the next year or so, but the pay is pathetic.
And just last week we found out that the pay is going to be lower than we expected. That in and of itself is what triggered the fog in my head to become so dense. That is what caused many of the other plates I was precariously spinning to come crashing down.
But that is OK. I am healing. I am learning to “find joy in the journey – now.”
“Stresses in our lives come regardless of our circumstances. We must deal with them the best we can. But we should not let them get in the way of what is most important—and what is most important almost always involves the people around us.
“Let us relish life as we live it, find joy in the journey, and share our love with friends and family. One day each of us will run out of tomorrows.
“Some of you may be familiar with Thornton Wilder’s classic drama Our Town. If you are, you will remember the town of Grover’s Corners, where the story takes place. In the play Emily Webb dies in childbirth, and we read of the lonely grief of her young husband, George, left with their four-year-old son. Emily does not wish to rest in peace; she wants to experience again the joys of her life. She is granted the privilege of returning to earth and reliving her 12th birthday. At first it is exciting to be young again, but the excitement wears off quickly. The day holds no joy now that Emily knows what is in store for the future. It is unbearably painful to realize how unaware she had been of the meaning and wonder of life while she was alive. Before returning to her resting place, Emily laments, ‘Do . . . human beings ever realize life while they live it—every, every minute?’
“Our realization of what is most important in life goes hand in hand with gratitude for our blessings.
“Said one well-known author: ‘Both abundance and lack [of abundance] exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend . . . when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that’s present—love, health, family, friends, work, the joys of nature, and personal pursuits that bring us [happiness]—the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience heaven on earth.’” ~ Thomas S. Monson
I am learning to choose how to focus on the abundance I have been given as opposed to what I think is missing from my life. It is a humbling experience, but I hope to learn how to choose well.
I want to be happy. I want to be content. I want to be free of anger and envy. I want to be optimistic. I want to dream. I want to be proactive and realize my dreams.
And I will.
It might be slow going and I might occasionally fly my plane dangerously close to the jagged edge of mountain ranges at times, but I will keep flying.
The Lord has felt my pain. All of it. He will succor me.
In Latin succor means to run to the rescue, to bring aid.
And that He will do.
He will walk hand in hand with me as I journey through this life.
As I journey with joy … now.
(This post has been entered into MamaBlogga’s Group Writing Project.)