Some days, I’m just on a roll, (or at least I like to think I am), only positive and happy thoughts abound. I’m generous with my compliments, and I truly mean them, I’m internally placid, I give my extra dollars to the homeless man who camps out at my exit, and I pat myself on the back after a day well lived. And then there’s the flip-side, some days I’m just trouble…. I’m sharp, and mouthy (which I might have been able to get away with as a teenager, when I had puberty to pin it on, but mouthy is not a positive trait in an adult). I’m cheeky to the point of rudeness, and I lash out at those that I love the most. It’s on these days, when I can relate to the Catholic practice of going to confession. Going to a church and knocking on a little wooden door, and anonymously laying it all out there. It seems like instance after instance, I have to knock on the little door inside my heart, where Jesus lives and say, “It’s me again Lord”… and I need to talk… or be forgiven, or popped on the backside by a loving Father, and sent away pardoned, but seeing the error of my ways. It seems like these days are becoming more and more common in my daily life, and I just don’t like it!!!! <----insert cheekiness here. My life is blessed. I have an amazing husband, family, and friends. Good health, the more than occasional good hair day (when I work at it!), a steady paycheck (can I get an AMEN?!), and a back deck where I can plop myself down in a rocking chair, and hopefully one day watch my children play and grow, but currently watch my lovable mutts chase each other, their own tails, and the various flora and fauna that come through our neck of the woods. Thinking about it…. I’ve got it made.
knock, knock, knock...It’s Me Again Lord…. And I’d just like to say thanks!