Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Some Days, All I See is Gray Hair
And cellulite. And then I worry about it and because of my worry I am absolutely sure that more gray hair just popped through my scalp.
How did I get to be such a negative thinker? How do I channel all kinds of negative and dooms day predictions on myself?
Well, I could tell you of all my bad experiences. They tend to justify my fears. Then, they make them worse. Indulging in self pity is like digging further down in a dark cave when you could just turn around and walk out.
You know what? What should have been the best years of my life were stolen away and replaced with blurs of sleepless nights, too little money, and a constant mess. Now, I have gray hair. In fact, I don't even remember how to "do" hair. And to think, all of my woes were due to four (and sometimes five) babies.
Wait. What? The moment I regret one second of not being a young beauty queen with a spotless house as a result of the ones I love... well, that means something is wrong. I would never hit the restart button if that meant living without one of these children (or my husband..).
I see beautiful, gray-haired women all of the time. I also see beautiful blonds and brunettes that have gray hair under that color. Life is not over.
This summer has had the potential of being one of the worst ever- and some days I give in and fall into my self pity. But for the most part, thank God, I have had joy.
Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say, rejoice!- Phil 4:4
I love how Paul can say this, even when his circumstances didn't look great. Worse than mine, in fact.
And he wouldn't have said it if it were not possible.
On the fourth of July, we went to my parents' house. We had a cookout, waited for dark, and shot off some fireworks. It was a moonless night... very black. We were in the country, away from the house. I could see more stars than one can in the city, or even on a typical night in the country. They were everywhere. But something else caught my eye. Fireflies. Not just one here or there, but near the creek and around the cottonwoods, thousands. Tens of thousands, likely. I have never seen anything like it. I stood there for a good ten minutes in awe. The fireworks were fabulous. But the stars and fireflies were majestic.
And all I had to do was be in the right place and be still.
I wonder how many blessings I miss out on because I refuse to be still and prefer to worry. My biggest enemy steals my joy, kills my peace, and destroys goodness. And that is why it is better to rejoice always. That is the way to abundant life.
And now, because I could not get a picture,
and because of my firefly friends,
and because worry is a lie,
and with it everything is never as it seems (even while awake),
and just because it makes me happy: