I should post something just to let everyone know I'm here and I'm thinking about posting, connecting communicating but everything is the same pretty much and the same in our case isn't necessarily a great thing. We wait. We live our of laundry baskets (frankly, thats the same) we sleep in strange beds. walk our dogs on leashes in the backyard. commute and commute. Different toys.
Insult to injury. We are waiting for the church we visited and accepted to get itself going...but other churches keep calling and some of them sound really good, closer to family, more pay, and one of them near enough that I could keep my current job. I don't know if we should abandon the fish we've got...sort of, and hope that one of these bigger fish come through, or if I shouldn't push my luck.
And of course its hubby's decision, really.
3 comments:
Well, it's also a family decision, he needs to consider all of you in the mix... You all have to live where ever the call is....So.
Pray.
be calm.
talk.
Don't be afraid to take the call that feels right. I mean, it will be really awkward to back out and take another one, so be careful, but try not to feel "stuck" either....
Ok. This is going to be long. But it is a post of a poem from Mary Oliver called: "The Poet Goes to Indiana."
I'll tell you a half dozen things
that happened to me
in Indiana
when I went tha far west to teach.
You tell me if it was worth it.
I lived in the country
with my dog-
part of the bargain of coming.
And there was a pond
with fish from, I think, China.
I felt them sometimes against my feet.
Also, they crepet out of the pond, along its edges,
to eat the grass.
I;m not lying.
And I saw coyotes,
two of them, at dawn, running over seemingly unenclosed fields.
And once a deer, but a buck, thick necked, leaped
into the road just- oh, I mean just, in front of my car-
and we both made it home safe.
And once the blacksmith came to care for the four horses,
and I bargained with him, if I could catch th fourth,
he, too, would have hooves trimmed
for the Indiana winter,
and apples did it,
and a rope over the neck did it,
so I won something wonderful;
and there was, one morning,
an owl
flying, oh pale angel, into
the hayloft of a barn,
I see it still;
and there was once, oh wonderful,
a new hore in the pasture,
a tall, slim being - a neighbor was keeping her there -
and she pupt her face against my face,
her muzzle, her nostrils, soft as violets,
against my mouth and my nose, and breathed me,
to see who I was,
a long quiet minute - minutes -
then she stamped feet and whisked tail
and danced deliciously into the grass away, and came back.
She was saying, so plainly, that I was good, or good enough.
Such a fine time I had teachin in Indiana.
Prayers for you....
You are so amazing... I'll look forward to meeting you one day.
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