I've never heard of a writing addiction before, but I think I've got one. I found myself still writing every day, I was just forcing myself to follow my ban. I doubt I'll be back posting my routine Sun-Thurs posts for awhile, but this is my little outlet, so I'm using it.
This post was written Tuesday in a letter, and it's the best I've been able to write so far.
My car died today.
It's going to be in a coma for the next few days until a transplant can be shipped in to revive it. It's funny how my car always seems to die on the day I'm going to get it looked at. My belt has been squealing, so I bought some of the belt dressing stuff to spray on it. Just in case it was an easy fix. The stuff didn't help. But I planned on getting it looked at today. It just didn't last long enough.
Today, Little One had a dentists visit and I had to take off work early to take her to it, and then drop her off at visitation with her parents who I met for the first time today. Her mom is upset with me because Little One called me mama in front of her last week. I had to take a letter to mom explaining why she's calling me mama now, and how it helps Little One cope and encouraging her not to give up all her progress over the discouragement of the irregular visits lately (no visits for the next two weeks because CPS will be closed on visitation days because of holidays and their schedule is too busy to fit her in on another day of the week during the holidays).
Before that happened though, I got a call from Little Ones daycare about two hours before I was suppose to pick her up for the dentist. They says she's got lice. I haven't been checking her because for so long her hair was short and it wasn't an issue. Well, apparently her hair's long enough now. I came home, treated her hair, got her ready for the dentists, and off we went.
To the dentists, (she's got beautiful healthy teeth) then dropped her off at the visit, met bio parents, and a grandma and then drove home to the sound of stuff falling off my car. I made it to union street before the pulley actually fell off and all the lights went on telling me my car was about to die (I can drive it until the battery runs out of juice, but I'm not going to, it'll sit there until it goes to the shop after the transplant pulley comes in).
I pull on an old t-shirt and stick my hair in a pony tail, jack the car up and try and look all car-guyish, to make sure I really did lose a pulley. I did. I came in and made transportation arrangements and Mr Fixit arrangements and asked my dad some car guy questions. Then he asked me alzheimer questions. Like I know the best treatment, or what to do. That's the problem with having the internet and having all the answers to their simple questions. Sometimes they think I can google "how to cure alzeimers" and something will come up. I did. The very first sentence google shows is "there is no cure for alzheimers".
This is going to be a long post.
I know what people mean when they talk of having to decide if they believe what they believe because they believed it or because they'd been told it all their life. I went through that in 2002 when I first moved into my old house. That's where I found my real relationship with God. The deep one that I'm hanging onto right now. I miss Him.
I told someone a couple of months back that when you see/hear so much from the devil, you start searching more to find God just to make it through. I use to be able to find those quiet refreshing times when you could just sit in His presence and not just think things would be ok, but you could almost see it, feel it, sense it, and it wasn't in a way that meant your situations would change. It was just... He's here, so no matter what the situation you know it's going to be ok. Come death, come pain, come car problems, come kid problems, come hospitals, come bills, it's all alright. And when all those things got to you and began to wear you down you could just stop, and stop anywhere, and hear that voice, feel the Master of Peace, and your soul and spirit (though maybe not always your body) would be refreshed.
I complained to someone the other night that there isn't peace anywhere now. It use to be at my fingertips and now it's just... gone. And in it's place is this remarkable sadness. It's how I've come to imagine life will feel when Little One leaves. You keep looking around, expecting it to be there, and it's not and every time you reach for it and find it gone you're more disappointed than the moment before.
There's more, that I just can't write. Just won't write I suppose is the most honest statement. But it's the thing that exhausts me the most and leaves me wondering where God is. The plain answer to where God is is simply "He won't leave you or forsake you, so He's right there." But, reading the bible is like reading letters of a long lost, dearly beloved friend. You just want to see Him, talk to Him yourself, sit and be together. Words on paper just aren't enough.
I remember the movie "The Patriot" with Mel Gibson. This passionate man begins a virtually impossible battle, gets all these forces together, and they follow his grim and deathly determined lead. Only to find themselves going to battle alone, when his son gets killed in battle and he loses heart. All those men standing there, fighting for a cause they do believe in, had less heart because their fierce leader wasn't there. He finally shows up and it's enough to win the battle for them, not necessarily because he did so much but because his presence changed the hearts of the men.
With everything combined going on around me, I feel like one of those men. Without my fearless leader, I'm standing in a battle thinking "I'm going to get creamed, and it will be such a crushing loss that any efforts I extend will be pathetic and insignificant."
If anything, I've started to think of this as a "for the duration" thing. Where you settle down and prepare yourself not for a sprint, but a marathon. And you know you're not in good enough shape to win, but you just hope you haven't lost too much by the time it's over.
I'm not really writing this for answers. I've come to think that maybe there is no answer other than wait - wait on God then keep waiting. Maybe I'm just writing this because I like writing so much it's hard for me not to blog. Maybe I'll skip my ban and blog this.
I didn't write this to complain about the car, or bio parents, lice or even God. I didn't write this for answers or questions. But it certainly feels better to have put it into words. I wish I could talk more like I write. But my mouth doesn't have a backspace button.