I Don’t Want To Mislead You

I am going back through the book…Present Over Perfect ( Shauna Niequist) one chapter at a time and I am marking it up as I go. It seems that retirement may be “essentially God’s grace prying my little fingers off of of that” (MY), “identity, digit by digit.”  And yes, I know I probably messed up that punctuation.

The following passage hits the nail on the head. “I’ve always given my best energy to things outside myself, believing that I’d be fine, that I was a workhorse, that I didn’t need special treatment or babying or, heaven help me, self-care. Self-care was for the fragile, the special, the dainty.  I was a linebacker, a utility player, a worker bee.  I ate on the run…worshiped at the alter of my to-do list, ignored the crying out of my body and soul like they were nothing more than the buzz of pesky-mosquitos.  Now I know that in the same way I’ve always believed God’s Spirit dwells deeply in this world, it also dwells deeply in me. I’ve known that, cognitively, but my life spoke otherwise. Now I know that the best thing I can offer to this world is not my force or energy, but a well-tended spirit, a wise and brave soul.

Are you saying “WOW…Just WOW!”  ??

I do not want to mislead you.  I can sit on the sofa and watch Netflix with the best. A good massage or mani-pedi?  Why yes…thank you so very much.  But the mind never rests. The to-do list is on a loop in the background. Always. Shoot, this blog post has been running around in my brain since yesterday afternoon.

A couple of years ago in our old house, Hank fixed me up a “tranquility room” upstairs. It was a soothing shade of gray, with a beautiful rug and a big comfy chair. The pictures on the walls were lovely and soothing and a double window looked out over the back yard. There was plenty of room for me to begin learning yoga. The roomed smelled lovely all the time. It was very hygge before I knew what hygge was.

In that comfy chair overlooking the backyard, I made some crazy impressive lists in the pretty notebook I ordered after researching pretty notebooks for a couple of weeks. That was before I researched all things calligraphy and took a calligraphy class.  Calligraphy is hard.


See what I did there?  The struggle is real.



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