everyday is a journey.
The seed ye sow another reaps,
The wealth ye find another keeps,
The robe ye weave another wears,
The arms ye forge another bears.
I found myself this morning, rummaging around in my small file boxes looking for my vacation schedule. The things I find in the process! Old notes and letters that I've held onto for whatever important reason at that time. Now it just escapes me. It was there, among all these so called important papers that a small post it note stared up at me.
I have nothing left, but my tears.
My own handwriting. What on earth could have been happening to me during that time to evoke such a heart wrenching sentence? There was no date and I definitely have no recollection of writing it. Yet, I know it is mine.
It would be normal to assume it had to be written during one of my treatments, but I really don't think so. To be honest, it was probably something very minor and insignificant where I felt sorry for myself. A regular pity party of no great importance.
Take this past weekend. I spent Saturday morning, running around with mom in tow, grocery shopping and my Ministry Gathering all rolled into one. In the afternoon, I cleaned my apartment, my oven, my refrigerator and my bathroom. I was busy and ended the day having dinner with my mom. All that was left to do was laundry, so I left that for after Church on Sunday.
After the service, I felt delighted with myself for having accomplished so much the day before. I thought to myself, after having the laundry done, I could relax with my writing and crocheting. Came home and decided to take a short 30 minute nap before beginning my Sunday schedule.
Well, it was during that nap that my knees swelled up, aching all the way to my toes. I moaned and groaned in self pity. I laid on the couch. I laid on the bed. I propped these painful suckers on stacks of pillows. I iced them with packs and warmed them up with heating pads. One would think the end of the world was coming with all the fuss I was making. All afternoon this melodrama droned on until evening. And then it was over, the swelling went down.
Now, staring down at that silly, over dramatic post it note, I wonder about the day I wrote it. I'm sure it was another moment in my life like the Sunday I just had. A moment where it felt I was going to die smothered in self pity. Imagine, twenty years down the road after I'm gone from this world. Imagine someone finding that yellow post it note. What would they think? They would think surely this woman was depressed. What a horrible image to leave behind. Let this be a lesson to me. Be careful what we write in the heat of emotion.
Have a blessed day everyone.
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