My heart was hot within me,
While I was musing the fire burned;
Then I spoke with my tongue:
“Lord, make me to know my end
And what is the extent of my days;
Let me know how transient I am.
“Behold, You have made my days as handbreadths,
And my lifetime as nothing in Your sight;
Surely every man at his best is a mere breath.
“Surely every man walks about as a phantom;
Surely they make an uproar for nothing;
He amasses riches and does not know who will gather them.
“And now, Lord, for what do I wait?
My hope is in You.
Psalm 39: 3-7
In case you’re wondering, unsunderies are not sun dried undies, but rather a collection of mismatched odds and ends of this and that’s… pretty applicable to my life’s hodge podge of what makes me, me….but more about such later…
First let me comment on a few things—
If you read my post “Symbolism,” (my story of the Holy Trinity) you may have noticed that I accidentally had two of the same shots or artwork. There were to be 4 of the framed pieces which I had previously “created”… so I’ve gone back in, edited, and fixed that little faux pas, deleting the duplicate and adding the piece sadly overlooked, which was really one of the ones I most enjoyed working on more so then the others—oh well.
IT CAME!! THE PASSPORT CAME!!
If you’ve not read the post dated from February 28th, “Goose chases, Passports and the times in which we live”—may I, first, recommended that earlier post for your reading pleasure as it is the story of my life and one of the funnier posts—unless you like the “Rome, Wine and a bit of Incontinence” post which is also my life in a nutshell. And yes, I can’t help that I am a woman of a certain age…..
I had gone to our county Court House, once I’d gotten all of my “crap” finally together (that’s how I was feeling after having scoured the world for all of these identifying documents). I was so happy. I drove up to our brand new and newly renovated court house, parked in the fancy schmancy new parking deck, walked into the main lobby of this beautiful new building (if a new court house can be beautiful) only to be greeted by the deputy sheriffs and the eerily similar airport security system.
I dump all of my belongings into the plastic bin and send it through the scanner as I sashay my way through the metal detector. At least the deputy sheriffs are friendlier than the TSA folks, no offense to any TSA folks reading this, but it seems to be an important part of the TSA secret club rules, do not smile, do not be friendly lest they detect any weakness.
I kindly ask the officer on which floor might I find the passport office. He replies in the same kind manor “second floor”—with a smile I might add which is more than I can ever say for TSA, but there I go digressing. I head to the elevator and up I go. I follow a sign to the big new wooden double doors. As I open the doors, I enter into a large waiting area that is empty. There are 3 ticket type booth windows in front of me with only one woman behind the far left window.
Naturally gravitating to the window with the person verses the windows with no one (does that not make sense to you? Go to a window with a person verses two empty windows? I thought so but I was wrong). I tentatively approach asking if this is where I need to be for a passport. Without looking up (why do they never look up) she barks “last window on the left”—this as I finally see the sign by her window “traffic citations.” I make my way down to the last empty window and just awkwardly stand there thinking she’s going to come down to this window. I hear her bark again, “press the bell” as I spy a doorbell looking ringer by the window. Now why would I need to press the bell, doesn’t she know I’m here?
Out of nowhere a voice bellows “JUST A MINUTE!” Things are suddenly not going as I would have hoped. My happiness in the delivering of all my painfully sought after vital information, suddenly and rapidly wanes. Finally another woman appears. She is not smiling. I’m getting use to that.
I begin my tale. In mid sentence she stops me and flatly asks, “do you have the correct form?” “Well, I’m not sure, but the last Passport agent I spoke with told me to use this form and include the cover letter (that was in the woman’s hand explaining the entire situation). If I called again—“They’d tell you something else” –she finishes my sentence for me.
“Do you have a photo or do I need to take one”. “oooo, she would have taken the picture” I muse silently. “ I have a picture, thank you.” I didn’t tell her how I’d gone to a photographer in town twice for a passport picture—the first picture had bad hair. I had to have a redo—not much better, but it would have to do.
She tells me to write a big check, raise my right hand and solemnly swear that I am who I am—my Lord, hasn’t that what I’ve been trying to do all these months gathering all my myriad of vital statistics?! I hand over everything and let out a huge sigh—it’s now in the hands of the Passport gods…….
Fast forward…THE PASSPORT CAME and I am now me on all of my major identifying documents!!!—but now there is an impending wedding to plan so all travel trips across the pond are temporarily on hold until further notice—more on weddings later……..
Ok, so now let’s move on…
I went back to the orthopedic office last week. The ankle is still swollen, still hurts, my good leg is now hurting having to drag around this 50 pound (no not really, maybe 100 lb) dead weight air-boot cast—they took new x-rays.
(if you don’t know what I’m talking about see the post “Pinestraw, the drainage hole, the ER and the broken Cookie”)
(a little less swollen, a little less black and blue—but painful to stand on and terribly weak, it’s the one on the left)
The doctor comes in, tells me things look in alignment and come back in 3 weeks. “What?!” I scream in my head. “That’s it?!”
Impatiently I ask “but what about the tendons and ligaments”—that’s what I’m more worried about, the bone, I know, will heal, it’s those more important rubber bands inside that hold everything together. He assures me things will heal. Time, it just needs time.
He tells me I need to give it time and all I’m hearing is that “Julie, you’re losing time.” Just sitting, resting, healing…hopefully healing. Wait, rest, heal– I hope.
But Scarlet, we won’t worry about it today, for that, my dear, is for another day. I need to go put up my leg. And speaking of… this whole “rest” concept is so foreign to me but I’m working on it.
I read a wonderful post the other day on the blog Following the Shepherd, found on nonfatlatte.wordpress.com —Blessings in the Thorn—sometimes—no actually, all of the time, we’ve got to stop fighting our “thorns” and instead, we need to find the blessings within the thorn! So I am now tasked with the job of finding the blessings in my new 50 lbs leg, forced to slow down to almost a complete stop, but yet, I must quit fighting this forced rest business. I do want my ankle to heal properly. As a friend keeps reminding me, “you know at our age, bones don’t heal like they once did.” “Eat Tums,” she tells me. “Calcium you know.” “Are you kidding me?!” Tums, really Sophie?! Lordy—or as my grandmother use to say “Lawdy!”
My husband came home form work early Wednesday in order to clean out the gutters. He also thought it really important to put in a new pipe for drainage, doing away with the infamous hole I stepped in. Really? Now he wants to clean gutters? With all of the rain we’ve had and all of the expected rain this weekend, he said it was urgent. Was it urgent that he dig out that drainage hole before we cleaned the gutters!!? Hummm…. Seems we didn’t need that little hole after all, as a tree root was blocking the gutter. Really? Now there is a nice new pipe. Humm… All as I was balancing the 20 ft ladder, up against the house, with him perched atop digging out wet goop, dropping it down on my head—me and my one good leg. Really? Suppose he has any sense of guilt as he sees me hobbling to and fro like a weeble wobble? Really.
When I first began this blog business, I didn’t know what to expect or think. Those of you, who know me, know that I don’t “do” facebook—none of that social media business for me. My small rebellion to a world gone mad I suppose…what with instant this and that, tweets, facebook, “immediate” just seems to be the name of the game. But a blog, that’s different, isn’t it? I’m more or less musing and offering encouragement, a little southern insight, while people can choose to muse along or not, right? At their leisure, right?
I think this is a good transition for a “retired” educator…you know how we teachers like to “muse.”
Just like in the classroom, people can choose to listen or not 🙂
Today 106 people have decided to “follow” me on my blog of “musing.” That may not sound like a lot, but to me it is 106 new friends in my life. I started all of this on February 25th, today is May 6th—I am honored that other people from all over the world care to hear and/ or see what a 53 year old woman down in Georgia may have to share. That’s nice. Very nice.
I know some of my friends prefer my posts about food, while others the travel tales…upsetting the apple cart, I then go and throw in a bit of the dramatic– to much of their dismay— but as a teacher, it was/ it is, important to me that I let my kids (and others) know that whatever trials, or thorns (thank you nonfatlatte) that they are experiencing– someone else knows and understands the same pain, the same frustration, the same sorrow…we are never ever truly alone. My kids always needed/ need to know that and it was/ is important that I let them know we all have our share of burdens as well as joy. Teenagers especially can feel isolated as they navigate this thing called Life—it was my job to help light the way…as I still feel that is my job.
It’s also nice sharing with other people “out there” who are on the same or similar journey—despite countries of origin, language, age, sex, the one thing I know to be true is that we are all more alike than we are different—just as I stated in the beginning of my blog—on the first post as to “why a blog”—it is the similarities that bind mankind, it’s all in how we decide to look at things.
God’s grace is sufficient—that is something I am also discovering—and that is blessing enough. May He continue blessing you, as you are blessing me.
Well I think that’s it for all of the sundries for now. Life—living, loving and learning—that’s what it’s all about. One step at a time and just knowing God is always a step or 10 ahead—thank goodness!
Julie, thanks for the shout-out!!! I love Psalm 39. Another “reminds me of…”: I met my husband in the passport office. 🙂 Are you still in Fulton? I used to be on Facebook but found that I became addicted. I don’t participate in it anymore.
Hi Elizabeth–my thanks is to you–that was such a good post on the blessings in the thorn. After college I moved to Carrollton to take the teaching position–the rest being history. I don’t do Facebook either, never have—from my position in education, Facebook had more bad than good, be it with the kids or adults—and our principal was not keen on his teachers participating–even though it was their personal business. He claimed, and I agree, for educators that is, it can cause more harm than good.
I take it you are no longer in Georgia…I go back to Atlanta to visit with Dad, but I would never want to go back there to live. When my aunt comes up from Fla. I always take her over to Dad’s or shopping, she is so blown away by all of the growth and change–it makes her a nervous wreck 🙂
It is a small world. I took a class at West Ga College when I was down there briefly. I found Facebook a place where people gave too much information or were too free with criticisms and attacks. I don’t miss it one little bit. No, not in Georgia anymore. I’m in Tennessee and LOVE it. I spent 40 years around Atlanta, but this is truly home.
I thought it was Tennessee…Go VOLS 🙂 My husband and I love Tennessee, having spent a good bit of time in Townsend, near Maryville, taking our son, when he was younger, to Cades Cove each year. I’ve always told him I want to one day move to that area.
You wouldn’t regret moving to Tennessee. God’s favorite place on earth! 🙂 (Okay, maybe after Israel)
“Sun dried undies”? That’s something a three year-old might say. 😉
Glad to hear you’re healing. These things — annoyingly — really do take time. Blessings to you as you continue to heal.
And the followers thing is weird in a good way. Makes me more mindful as a reader and a wriiter. I have a pretty ecclectic bunch (including four guinea pigs in the UK), and most of them struggle with some pretty big stuff.
Blessings for your day. 🙂