Independence

Here I am, sitting in the dark of someone elses living room at 9pm.  I’m sitting on someone elses couch, sweating on someone elses couch cover and accent pillows, sipping cold white wine out of someone elses carefully chosen wine glasses.

I am alone.

My children reside at home with their father.  OBoy12 and OGirl10, snug at home with daddy, thinking mommy is “babysitting” someone else’s children… MGirl 18 is home with Oboy12 and Ogirl10… and someone elses babybaby.  Babybaby might be legally someone elses, but heartfully totally mine.  So much of my life seems to belong to someone else. 

Except that it really is mine.  Independantly, I have to accept that MY life is made up of someone else’s love and acceptance, someone else’s approval and encouragement, someone else’s needs and wants and desires.  MY life IS about someone else.  It’s not about me at all.

Dude!  Who knew?

Tonight, I am on my own.  And it’s scary.  And I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing, going the right way, headed the right direction,  or if I’m walking in the light, walking in His way, and I don’t know if I can trust and believe that it’s all going to be OK in the end.  Without my control.  Because… it’s not about me.

Sheesh.  NOW they tell me.  I could’ve used this info 38 years ago… or at least 14 years ago.  Why did I have to learn this lesson now?

I’m going to go out into my garden now.  It’s been untended for way too long.  The weeds are out of control, the insects are thriving, the soil is thin and hard.  It smells funky out there, and it’s full of things that scratch and sting and snag…ugly ugly things.  It’s gonna take me awhile.