Yes, I do confess…I do read other people’s mail…well, other people’s blogs and one by Matthew Ruttan quoted Jim Wallis’s story about someone saving people from drowning, then came the realization that someone up river was pushing them in.
Our little blue house had a similar problem years ago. “Water in the basement”…that phrase strikes fear into the heart of any homeowner. I took one look at the seepage and walked back upstairs, much to the astonishment of my husband, who expected me to dive right in and wipe up the mess.
“I’m going to see where it is coming in,” I explained. And yes, an eves trough had dislodged and needed repair.
Every spring I start out the season buying some petunias and digging in the dirt. I do so love to garden and then a few days later I wonder why my eyes itch and I have a slight cough. So I put some drops in my eyes and vow that next year I will stop scratching this itch to farm my few feet of dirt at the side of the house and get rid of my itchy eyes also. Alas, I have little resistance to petunias. We all know what we ought and ought not to do but our resistance level is so low.
When arthritis rears its ugly head it takes little retrospect to acknowledge that just maybe I did a bit much the other day. Limitations in my life are becoming more and more a part of my every day existence, and frankly, I am not pleased. But I do thank God for the abilities I have had in the past…riding my bike for miles, spending the whole day gardening, walking everywhere without worrying about whether I will be able to make it back home.
My handicap tag for my car offers me so much more independence. Yes, I can walk a certain distance but then who would carry me back to the car, when this body would refuses to?
As a “mystery” advocate, spending time searching for answers seems to be part of my personality. I find myself checking out situations and personalities. Noticing people that are left-handed, folks that limp etc. and I delight in deciding if someone has an accent. I even spoke to a stranger one day and commented that he must be from the Maritimes. “Nope,” he replied, “but my Mom was.” We are so often the result of experiences that we felt never marked us, but others recognize as signs of who have influenced us. Expressions my mother once said still haunt me and I find myself repeating things that make no sense to others like, “I’m up a gum tree”, or “She arrived like a bat out of hell.” And does anyone know where the expression “bonyeyes” came from? We used to express our ownership of something that we wanted…something like having first dibs on an object.
I wonder if the people I meet casually, know I am a Christian. Should I wear a cross? Should I wear a T-shirt that says that? Or do my actions or words reflect my faith life. God knows what’s in my heart and I hope there are times when others do also.
Photo by LonMcGregor (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons
