Wishing My Life Away

I was sitting at my son’s choral festival last night (he had a solo!) thinking about all of the times I sat through these things wishing they could be over so that I could get home and drink.  Even when our daughter had band concerts all those years ago, before I was fully into my addiction, I used to be preoccupied with where we could go for dinner so that I could get a drink (I wasn’t drinking at home then).  In fact most of the after school activities that they were involved in resulted in me wishing I was somewhere else.  How much of their beautiful lives did I miss?

It got me thinking – how much time do I spend wishing for something else rather than enjoying what I have or the moment I’m in? 

My husband and I lived in a cute little split foyer house for the first 20 years of our marriage.  The whole time I was in that house, I was trying to improve, fix up, or move.  I don’t think I spent enough time enjoying just living in that house.  I don’t think I spent enough time appreciating our back yard with it’s beautiful HUGE oaks and maples that were a pain in the ass in the fall but oh so lovely in the spring and summer…now I miss them.  And when I talk to the kids and see the house through their eyes, I see what a wonderful life we made in that house.  I wonder how much I missed sitting around wishing it away?

I’m pretty good about watching my kids grow and being “in the moment” with them.  We used to do some crazy stuff when they were young and when anyone would ask me what the heck I was doing, I would respond “Making memories of course!”.  Even still, I remember times when they were babies, wishing they would grow up a little so that they could give me a break (three in diapers, two of whom are twins is TOUGH).  When they were toddlers, I remember wishing they would get a little older so that they would understand that I wasn’t saying no to be mean but to protect them.  I also remember when they were 9-12 (the worst age for boys in my opinion) and they were mouthy and defiant, that they would get a little older and grow out of that stuff.  And although those wishing times were few, I would trade everything to have even one back.

Then there’s the little stuff, wishing the traffic would move instead of enjoying the solitude, the scenery, the music on the radio.  Wishing the work day would end instead of enjoying my co-workers, improving my work or just goofing off for a change.  Wishing Christmas would hurry up and get here instead of truly enjoying the season and all it brings.  Wishing for more sober time instead of enjoying the journey of recovery.

I need to slow down and look around at all that I have rather than wishing for things I do not have.  I need to trust that God is going to provide and that no matter what, I have all that I need right now and it’s pretty damn good.

True happiness is to enjoy the present, without anxious dependence upon the future, not to amuse ourselves with either hopes or fears but to rest satisfied with what we have, which is sufficient, for he that is so wants nothing. The great blessings of mankind are within us and within our reach. A wise man is content with his lot, whatever it may be, without wishing for what he has not. Seneca (Seneca the Elder)

Time for a Little Gratitude

I am in a great mood today and I have no idea why and I really don’t care why – I’m just going to enjoy it.  I’m also going to take the time to work on my gratitude and record it here, so if this is something that you find tedious, feel free to jump off this train now.  You won’t hurt my feelings…much.  😉

Dear God,

Thank You for…

  • My sobriety.  I don’t thank You enough for that in spite of the fact that I know I couldn’t have done it without You.  For that I am grateful every day.
  • My family.  My husband, children, and grandchildren are a blessing I never thought I’d know.  I didn’t want to have children for fear I would screw them up the way my parents screwed me up, but You knew better.  For that I am grateful every minute of every day.
  • My friends.  You have placed in my path friends who make me laugh and cry and I love to spend time with them.  And then there are those who are angels masquerading as friends.  These people have, and continue to be the extended family I no longer have – and they are much better at it than the original ones were.  To have people in your life who will call you on your bullshit and still love you unconditionally is truly a blessing.
  • My AA Group.  These people are just wonderful and I’m so glad You shoved me in that direction.  My sponsor is a good one and I find topics and people that speak directly to my heart everytime I walk into those rooms.
  • My job.  Thank You for allowing me to provide for my family in a way that makes me happy.
  • My hairdresser.  She really kicked ass this time.  Thank You for making me shut up and let her do her thing.
  • The willpower to stick to a cleaner diet and feel better in the process. 
  • Shoes…’nuff said.
  • The arrival of Spring.  Thank You for placing me in an area of the US that gets all four seasons.  Just when I have had enough of one, another one shows up and fills me with wonder.  That’s just plain cool.
  • My son’s concert tonight.  Thank You for blessing him with a voice that makes me cry (from joy) when he really turns it on.  That kid is phenomenal.  I’m sure the other’s in the chorus are just as good (not) but let’s face it, I’ll only be listening for his voice.
  • My new iPad!  One of the angels previously mentioned gave it to me on Saturday.  Did you hear that?  GAVE. IT. TO. ME.  No friend of mine has ever been that generous or thoughtful with material goods.  We’d been kidding about how she was going to get it for me – with a pink cover – after she got a big fat signing bonus on a new job (she hasn’t heard yet).  She went and bought one for me anyway – with a pink cover.  I am still speechless and I am NEVER speechless.  Thank You for placing her in my life (and not just because she bought me an iPad but that sure is nice.)
  • Long eyelashes and Mary Kay Ultimate Mascara.  It rocks.
  • My nephew and his brief stay with us.  Please let him remember how much we love him and remind him from time to time that home is always with the people who love you.

Guess that’s it for now.  Give me the power to do Your will today rather than mine.  Give me the patience to wait for those things and know that they are in Your time and not mine.  Help me to shut up and listen.



It is a cold and rainy morning here in the Southeastern US and I find myself impatient for spring to just get here already (um…hello…it’s still February).  In fact, as I examine this I realize that I am impatient about just about everything! And the more I look at it, the more I realize that my life is rife with examples.

For instance, this weekend my friend and I were discussing why we find it difficult to find peace of mind.  A book had been recommended to her to help her learn to quiet the ceaseless chatter in her head – I call mine the Boxing Bitch you may recall.  My first thought was, “Oh my god!  Not another book.  Why can’t there just be a pill to shut those voices up!”  Um…yeah…there was a pill…mine was Chardonnay – and that didn’t work out too well now did it?  Maybe I should slow down a little and exercise some patience while trying to get BB to shut the hell up.

Then there’s this job.  I’m still waiting to hear something…anything, and the waiting is torture!  I keep telling myself, “Not in my time, in God’s time.”  I keep trying to put my faith in Him but I’m so impatient!  Can’t we just get this over with?  Pull that dang band-aid off already!

I’m impatient when it comes to my weight loss.  I want it all gone NOW.  Nevermind that I’m losing 1-2 pounds per week (which is optimal and quite a miracle considering my age and that I haven’t been working out) but it’s too slow for me.  Right now I’m still committed but I’m afraid I’m going to do what I always do when self improvement methods are too hard for me or take too long…I quit.  I justify it and rationalize it all over the place but it is what it is – quitting because I’m impatient for results.  Sigh…

I’m impatient when it comes to recovery.  I want to speed through the steps and get to the “good” part.  The part where I start to feel better and unravel some of my dysfunction.  I want to be healed and I want it to happen now.  Fortunately I think I’ve found a sponsor that will call me on my bullshit and make me do it in God’s time and not my own. 

Now, I’m not an idiot – intellectually I know that anything worth having must be worked for…and I work.  In all other areas of my life I approach things head on, roll my sleeves up and get to work.  I take my time, exercise patience and do an amazing job with just about any task given.  It’s only when it comes to tending my own garden that I get sloppy and impatient.  Why is that?

Maybe it’s because I don’t feel worthy of the hard work.  I mean, why waste time on me?  I’m worthless, self-centered and self-righteous (be careful what you say to your children…they never forget it) so why bother?  Nice…huh?

Most likely it’s because I feel that if I spend any time on myself then I’m taking time from my job, or those I love, or the service work I should be doing or…whatever.  Then I start to feel guilty for taking that time and then BB straps on the gloves and jumps back into the ring.

This applies to little and big things.  I feel guilty when I get my nails done or get a massage which is supposedly what we women do to take care of ourselves.  The reality is that I should be taking time to do some REAL work on my psyche – meditation, yoga, AA Meetings, just sitting quietly and thinking through things, blogging or journaling.  But those things are not finite.  They do not last for an hour and then you’re done. They are long term commitments.  So when I think about REALLY investing in myself and my well being, Guilt (with a capital G) jumps into the ring with BB and they begin to tag team the match…and I’m down for the count.  That’s when I look to God and say, “Just make the chatter stop – make it go away – and make it happen NOW.”  I am impatient for the match to end.  I am impatient for the peace and serenity to find me. I am just…impatient.

But (and this is a big BUT), if I don’t start taking care of myself and what’s going on inside my head, then how will I ever take care of those other things that I’m allowing to make me feel guilt and fill me with an urgent need to fill my days with anything other than myself?  How will I finally defeat BB and her sidekick G?

I think I’ll start by buying a book…um…right after I take care of a few things.


We are taught at a very young age that sharing is a wonderful thing.  Sharing our love, our possessions, our time.  Our children sing rhymes about it (I can still do a mean sing-a-long with Barney if I have to), we reinforce the concept between siblings and friends, and churches/charitable organizations wouldn’t be able to survive without it.  To quote Martha Stewart…it’s a good thing.

I have always loved the concept of sharing.  It’s how I show love and nurture others.  I will give you my last dime and the food off my plate if I think you need it more than I do…and sometimes just because you think you need it more than I do.  I’m the woman who gives money to those guys on the street with the signs, or the woman and child outside the store with a sign, or a guy sitting at a table in a fast food restaurant with a cup of coffee who looks like he’s run out of hope without a sign.  I’m the woman who always has at least two extra people at the dinner table every night or someone sleeping in an extra bed because they are in town for business and I thought they’d prefer to sleep in a home rather than a hotel.

I give my time.  I will stay up till all hours of the morning making something if the kids need it or go running out in the middle of the night to get poster board for a project due tomorrow.  I will let you volunteer me for anything (grudgingly but I always end up loving it).  I will show up at your door in a skinny minute if you call and need me to do something for you. 

I’m also the woman to whom everyone bares their soul.  I carry around more secrets in my pea brain than most people have in a lifetime.  I’ve counseled and advised, listened and comforted, cried and laughed with friends and acquaitences millions of times over the years I’ve been on the planet.  And I’ve loved every one of those people and every one of those conversations. 

Bottom line is – there is nothing I won’t give to help my friends and family and very little I won’t give to help everyone else.  It’s my “thing”.  I’m not tooting my own horn here, just stating some facts.  It’s how I roll.

Here’s my question (to myself of course)…why can someone who gives like this not give to herself and, more importantly, why can’t she let anyone give to her?

Through this process of self-realization that I’ve been on since getting sober, this is the one thing that stumps me every time.  Why can’t I just ask for, and really open my heart to help from others?  I know it makes me feel good to help others, why can’t I let others feel that way by helping me?  Quite a paradox wouldn’t you say?

Now I HAVE tried to do this over the years.  I have asked for help from some friends…asked them to listen, asked them to advise, etc….but never with very good results.  Some seem shocked that the person they go to for help now needs it and they don’t know what to say.  Some are shocked when I tell my story as a backdrop to why I need the help and, not having any shared experiences, just can’t relate.  Some offer help but it’s just on the surface and really not helpful at all when I examine it. 

During my soul searching efforts of late, I have come to the conclusion that it’s not them…it’s me.  (I know right!  I was as shocked as you are right now!)  My heart is so tightly shut that it can’t be penetrated and thereby be soothed.  My husband comes as close as anyone can get and even he hasn’t been able to break through the armour completely.  (But at least after 29 years he’s smart enough to know that eventually I’ll be okay and that all he really has to do to help is to listen.  Have I mentioned that he’s a saint?)  And I’m so used to going into “mommy mode” (even before I had kids – I was born 30) that it’s hard to step back and let myself be nurtured and loved.  Hard for me to let other people give that to me.

So tonight I’m going to sit down with a woman who may become my sponsor in AA.  We’re going to talk and she’s going to guide me through the process of recovery.  My greatest hope is that when I come out on the other side, I am able to at least do a little nuturing for myself.  And then we’ll work on letting other people do some.  Hey! Baby steps people…baby steps…

I love you,
You love me,
We’re a great big family,
With a great big hug and a kiss from me to you,
Won’t you say you love me too…  ~Barney


I hate waiting.  I’ve never met anyone who actually likes waiting but I really hate it.  I’m just not very patient when it comes to getting things that I want.  I’m sure that has something to do with why I became an alcoholic but that’s likely another post entirely.

Right now I’m waiting to hear about a job that I really, really would like to have.  Partly because I need to get back to work for a company in which I can put down some roots and begin to rebuild a career (right now I’m consulting which is a “proper” way of saying temp-ing) and partly because this particular opportunity would offer my family a level of financial security we haven’t seen since I got laid off 3 years ago, and mostly because it looks like a crazy good job that I could actually have fun doing.

I had what I think was the last interview yesterday and now I sit here waiting…waiting…waiting.  Okay – so I know it hasn’t even been 24 hours but I’ve been turned down for so many jobs in the past 2 years that I just want to KNOW.  Do you want me or don’t you?  Can you see that I’m perfect or did I screw up yet another interview and you’ve decided to go with someone else?  And oh, by the way, while you’re at it I’d like you to jump up and down and proclaim from the rooftops that I’m the best candidate you’ve ever seen and you’d be a fool not to hire me and oh MAN are you lucky that I’m available!

Or you could just call and offer me the job – that would do as well. 

I keep telling myself that if it’s God’s will then I’ll get the job and if He has better plans for me then I won’t.  I keep telling myself that I have to have FAITH and TRUST that He has a plan and that good things are coming my way.  I keep telling myself that…wish I could actually believe it.

Okay – I mean I really DO believe it.  But when you’re waiting like this or when you get the call that you’ve been turned down…again…it’s hard to hang in there.  But that’s where the faith and trust part come in isn’t it? 

“Jesus said to him: ‘You believe because you can see me. Happy are those who have not seen and yet believe.” ~John 20:29

So I’m just going to keep praying for His will to be done and keep hoping that THIS time it matches my will and if it doesn’t…well then I guess I’ll just keep right on believing.

Afraid Once Again

I was having a lot of trouble coming up with a topic for my post today.  I realized a little while ago that it was likely because I didn’t want to talk about what I really need to talk about because I’m uncertain about how I feel about it.  Clear as mud?  Good.  Let’s move on.

See I did something last night that I never thought I’d do and I’m not really sure how I feel about it in the cold, clear light of day.  No…not THAT!  (But it does sound an awful lot like that now doesn’t it…hmmm…file that one away as a post for another day.)

Anyway…I asked for and later approached someone to be my sponsor in AA.  I REALLY didn’t want to do that because if I did, it meant that I was REALLY going to have to immerse myself into the rhetoric and beliefs of the program and no longer sit on the sidelines and just listen.

Nevermind that God has been pushing me in that direction since the moment he whispered in my ear that I should go to AA.  Nevermind that last Friday as I was driving to the meeting I thought – OMG…someone is going to ask me to read tonight!  I started to ask God to make that not happen and then changed it to “Help me to do Your will Lord.”  You guessed it, they asked me to read the preamble…shit.

Nevermind that every single time I walk into those rooms the topic seems to be EXACTLY what I need to hear at that moment.  How do they know?  Maybe one of them is reading my blog…but unless I look like a bunch of pink roses, they wouldn’t know who I was…so…how do they know?

Nevermind that I’ve been thinking that this particular woman might have something I need from the moment I first heard her share at a meeting (and then later speak at a Speaker Meeting), and that she happened to be available for Sponsees.

Oh crap…I really don’t want to do this.  I really don’t want to relinquish control to this person and let her lead me where I’ve never been. (Have I mentioned that I have trust issues?  Oh yeah…guess I have.)  I really don’t want to get involved.  Can’t I just sit and listen and soak it up and keep blogging and keep reading about other’s recovery in my “drunk books”? 

Yeah..I could.  But I’d never know whether or not it was ALL I could do to find the peace and serenity I so desperately seek.  I’d never know if going that extra mile was “just what the doctor ordered”.  I’d never learn to “Let Go and Let God”. 

What am I afraid of? (Because, as you know, I’m pretty much afraid all of the time.)  I guess I’m afraid she won’t like me (don’t roll your eyes – it’s an issue for me) and, more importantly, I’m afraid of doing it WRONG and FAILING and letting her down.  I’m afraid I won’t “get it” and she’ll be left to shake her head and think…”That woman is just hopeless.”

Doesn’t really matter.  I’m meeting her for our first one on one on Friday night.  I guess I’ll just show up and do whatever she says.  Do you think she should or would want to read my blog?  How did you feel when you first reached out to a sponsor? 

Losing Control

Control is something that I struggle with on a daily basis.  I have been conditioned to hold on to things with a clenched fist so that I don’t lose them when in fact I never had them in the first place.  I seek to control everything and everyone in my life so that they can’t hurt me (or so that I’ll see it coming if they do).  If I can just remain in control then I won’t ever be hurt or dissappointed and I won’t hurt or dissappoint anyone else.  I think I’m beginning to understand the root of my trust issues…man am I thick headed sometimes.

I had a very emotional weekend.  Things are changing around me and that makes me uncomfortable because I can’t control the change.  When it got that way before, when I had the perception that I was losing control, I would retreat with my wine and just drink and think…drink and think…until I couldn’t think anymore and all the uncomfortableness was gone and I thought I’d come to some brilliant conclusion about what needed to be done.  Unfortunately for my family and friends, I sometimes shared that conclusion which was…just plain not pretty.  And then I’d pass out only to wake the next morning dazed and confused…able to remember that I had a brilliant idea but unable to remember exactly what is was (and too embarrassed to ask) which resulted in more uncomfortableness…et cetera, et cetera…

Anyway, now when I feel like I’m losing control and I’m uncomfortable, I’m learning to lean on my recovery and God to help me navigate through these unfamiliar waters.  I get that there are two paths in most situations – acceptance and the courage to make a change (or not make a change) – but knowing which one to do is what keeps tripping me up – you know…the whole “wisdom to know the difference” part?  Do I stick my nose in and lend a hand or do I let it play out and watch my loved ones struggle?  What do I take on and own and what do I leave alone?  When am I needed and how do I know?  What CAN I and what am I SUPPOSED to control?

So for now I’m trying to just let things be for a little while and not be so quick to act on them.  To be silent so that I can hear that small, quiet voice that nudges me in the right direction.  I’m trying to nuture that voice so it will grow and get louder.  I’m trying so that God won’t need to use the brick on me so often.

Happy Monday.

Finding Balance

My twins are taking Chemistry this year.  I am in awe because Science was never my best subject.  Like most women my age, Science and Math were not stressed for us as girls and therefore we did not perform well.  Now English?  I kicked ass in English!

Anyway, I do remember one concept from science that I’ve been thinking about lately – the concept of positively and negatively charged ions and how the world can be split into positives and negatives in pretty much any situation, but that you need the balance of both to not actually blow up the world.

Even people tend to fall into one category or another.  I am an almost obnoxiously positive person – my glass is not only full, it’s overflowing.  My friend Eyeore (not her real name) is more of a negative personality type – she doesn’t even have a glass. But I love her and she loves me and when we are together we provide balance for each other .

So I’ve been applying this concept to my drinking life vs. my recovery/sober life.  At first I thought that sober was firmly placed in the positive category while drinking was sitting sloppily on the negative side.  Whoa!  Slow your roll there mama.  After I thought about it awhile longer, I determined that each had a little of both of those ions flying around in their camp.

My drinking life started out FUN.  (And if a drunk ever tells you that they didn’t enjoy drinking, even in the beginning, I would be very skeptical of that person.  Why in the hell would we do it if not for the fact that it started out FUN!)  I was a funny drunk, full of self confidence and positivity…until I wasn’t.  Drinking calmed me, made me part of the club, let me relax.  Sitting around drinking wine was an experience…one only the cool kids did.  It defined me.  At 23 I got the nickname “funnel face” because I drank so much so fast.  I wore that nickname as a badge of honor, thought it was funny…until it wasn’t.  In the beginning the positives outweighed the negatives by a huge margin…until they didn’t.

In the same way, my sober life started out amazing!  I was so proud to be sober.  My kids were proud and my husband was proud and I think even the dogs were a little proud.  I smiled a mysterious smile when offered a drink and just said, “No thank you”.  Like I was so much better than the drinkers because I was the only one that would be sober at the end of the night and therefore not have a hangover the next day (I failed to see that normal people do not drink to the point of passing out and therefore seldom have hangovers).

But then real sobriety hit and I had to face all those reasons I drank in the first place.  The reasons I couldn’t relax and be part of the club without drinking.  The reasons I longed to be a cool kid.  The reasons I needed the “experience”.  Oops – now sobriety is no longer amazing.  Now it’s hard.  Now it hurts a little.  Now it’s a negative.

I think this is the root of relapse (among many other completely complicated things) because you start out so positive and you have to work through the negative in order to find balance.  That’s something I’ve never had much of…this concept of balance.  That it takes a little of each – positive and negative – to achieve stability and balance in one’s life.

Well I’m not going to relapse (at least not today) because I’m smart enough to realize that anything worth having takes work and it’s not all sunshine and daisies no matter how badly I want it to be.  But this finding balance is hard and not at all what I thought it would be.  I told you I was no good at Science.  Oh…but I will kick ass in Recovery.

Oh My Frickin’ God!


[ih-pifuh-nee] noun, plural -nies.

  1. ( initial capital letter ) a Christian festival, observed on January 6, commemorating the manifestation of Christ to the gentiles in the persons of the Magi; Twelfth-day.
  2. an appearance or manifestation, especially of a deity. 
  3. a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience. 
  4. a literary work or section of a work presenting, usually symbolically, such a moment of revelation and insight.
  5. a brick hurled from the heavens to wake up or send a message to certain, stubborn, self centered people who can’t hear what He is trying to tell them.
In case you were wondering, that last definition is for me since what I had while praying this morning can only be described as an epiphany.
As I was saying the Serenity Prayer this morning, I was thinking that I wish I could feel this prayer more in my heart as I was saying it.  That led me to think that maybe I didn’t mean it and that’s why I couldn’t feel it…and then BAM!  The brick slammed into my head…the reason I don’t feel it is because I don’t believe it because I think I got sober ALL BY MYSELF!!!
Oh my frickin’ God!  That is what I think! (Warning:  this post will require the use of many exclamation points, CAPS, and italics – if you don’t like it, I don’t really care.) I think that I am such an amazing and all powerful human being that I magically woke up one morning sober.  After that, I made it through withdrawals and the remaining 23 months of uncertainty and pain without so much as God lifting a finger.
I thanked Him every morning for the sun and the moon and my family and my life…but never for my sobriety!  Nope, that I saved exclusively for myself.  Holy shit!
As the brick landed firmly against my numbskull, I realized why God asked me to go to AA (THAT I heard loud and clear while praying).  He sent me there after all this time sober so that I could get it through my thick head that no one does this alone and especially not without their Higher Power (mine happens to be the Big Guy).  He also reminded me of the following:
  • The number of times I was drunk off my ass after two or three bottles of wine that I knelt down and prayed for Him to help me to be sober.
  • The number of times my kids woke me up in a living room chair where I had passed out, concern on their faces, to send me to bed.  And as I stumbled up the stairs to my bed, I asked God to please help me stop hurting my kids.
  • The number of times I woke up with a hangover and asked Him not to let me drink that day.
  • The number of times we were getting ready to go out and I prayed for Him not to let me get too drunk.  Please don’t let me embarrass myself.
  • The number of times I prayed that there wouldn’t be an emergency overnight because I wouldn’t be able to function, much less drive, if there were.
  • The number of times I prayed for my friends not to be mad at me because I couldn’t remember what I said or did the night before.
There are many more but my hands are shaking so bad as I type this that I need to move on…
He heard every single one of those prayers and what’s more, he answered EVERY DAMN ONE!  Not in my time but in the time that was right for me.  I am such an ass.
So now I’m going to close and, as my mother used to say, sit and think about what I’ve done.  Then I’m going to go to a Speaker meeting tonight and really listen with an open heart to what God can do.  Then, before I close my eyes tonight, I am going to thank God for my sobriety.

Walking on Faith

So I got a new do yesterday!  It’s a really short, funky, Halle Berry inspired style (I asked her if she could also make me a small, gorgeous, talented black woman but she’s not that good).  It’s so cute and my husband says it makes me look younger so you know I am all over that!

Here’s how it happened.  The past several times I’ve been to see my hairdresser I’ve come with pictures.  Shots I’ve pulled from the internet that I like.  Many of these I know full well she can’t make happen because of my hair texture and the way it grows, but I bring them anyway in hopes that one day she’ll say, “We just got this new product in that will make your hair look like Jennifer Aniston’s!”.  Yeah…not so much.

What’s funny is, that is not the kind of client I usually am.  Usually, I’m the one that sits down and says, “Do what you think will look best” which puts a lot of pressure on the stylist but always ends up looking good.  When in doubt…leave it to the professionals right?  Right?

Well apparently I had forgotten that which resulted in an unflattering cut followed by a home dye job that was just awful and 2 additional hours out of my day and $200 additional dollars out of my pocket for her to fix it.  However, it was worth every penny because I LET GO and WALKED ON FAITH and just let her have her way with my hair.  And now…it’s fabulous!  (Cue the Hallelujah Chorus.)

Why can’t I do this with other areas of my life?  Why can’t I trust God with my life the way I trust my stylist with my hair?  My philosophy about hair – it’s just hair, it grows, could also be applied to myself – it’s just you, you’ll grow!  And really, what is the worst that can happen?  It’s God for Heaven’s sake (pun intended)!

One of the comments from a prior post about letting go said (paraphrasing), “It may happen a little at a time.”  Maybe this is my first step in the right direction.  Maybe by letting go of this one little thing and then by more little things I learn to trust again and will finally apply it to God again.  In any event I’m going to keep praying about it and practicing letting go and listening for the quiet whisper from within my heart.

In the meantime I think I’ll practice a little more by letting go and trusting that my retired husband will get the house cleaned and that no one is going to die if I don’t smell bleach on Saturday morning.

I feel better already…