I took some time this morning to look through some of my old writing notebooks.
I wish I hadn’t.
It wasn’t quite as sweet and mellow as the Little River Band song. Interspersed in my writing are little journal excerpts. I came across one such from February of 2006. I was living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania at the time. I was extremely active in my church. Hoping for better days coming, I had just been released from an incredibly demanding calling teaching 13-17-year-old girls. This included one-hour lessons every Sunday, ninety-minute activities every Wednesday night, a week-long ‘girls camp’ in the summer along with the various fundraising car washes, bake sales and babysitting nights included. I had worked with wonderful women but I was so relieved to be done. I do not like teenage girls at all.
(Well, I didn’t then but, NOW, these two are perfect!)
Back to my journal. As I read over the rest of the entry from February 19, 2006, I felt my generally cheerful mood evaporate. It has taken me several hours to really pinpoint what is going on. In 2006 my bishop (leader of the congregation) called me into his office to tell me (NOTE- I’m going to quote from my journal because of my currently evolving belief system)
(the Bishop) said he has felt strongly that he needed to tell me that the Lord is pleased with my efforts and with how high I set the bar, but that it is okay to take care of yourself….and not to run faster than you are able.
One might wonder why that would ruin my day? I loved hearing it! I was finally doing something right!
I didn’t take the advice.
A month later I was pregnant, had a calling in the demanding women’s program and continued to pile on the responsibilities. Oh, if I could have one short conversation with myself that month!
I loved living in Pittsburgh, but I was not good to myself there. Many wonderful things happened while I was there but I barely made it out of there in one piece. Amazingly it would take five more years for me to finally crash and burn. Seven years after that and I feel like I’m just barely coming out of the fog.
I admit I’m disappointed by the number of years it has taken me to learn a simple lesson.
When I’m really disappointed and low, there are only two things that can bring me out of my funk with alacrity; my Itunes playlist played loud enough to annoy the neighbors and Thorin Oakenshield. Yeah, he knows something about disappointment. When I finally fell apart, he helped me make sense of it.
He let me cut my baby writing teeth on him. My first writing that was read by other people. I didn’t like his story any better than mine, so I lent a hand.
Smoking hot cover made by our own Liz Durano.