Why am I surprised?

I've been engaging the Lord around my circumstances.  Over a period of two years, my husband and I have earned a lot of money.  And spent it. Squandered it, some would say, but not on ourselves.  But generosity doesn't make any difference, there is nothing left.
I've been examining the emotions, fears, shame that are being exposed in this season.  I've been wondering about provision and wondering why it is being withheld.
A pitched on some work about two months ago and had a meeting today about the project.  As the client told me they would have to hold it off until Feb 2012, my heart sunk thinking, there goes some possible income, when the client said: "please bill me a chunk and get working".  I was gobsmacked, yet why?  I love the way God delivers surprises that remind me I am not in control.

Changing my bra size

I had a giggle this week when I imagined change being like growing breasts.  To leap from being flat-chested to an under-wire, full-support bra is pretty impractical and uncomfortable.  We need a training bra to bridge the gap.
I seem to be beset by change on all sides - I'm moving house, no longer have full-time domestic help, have no income generating work and am teetering on the edge of midlife, I could grasp for an over-shoulder boulder holder to try and keep my change in check, but rather I want to reach for a training bra.
A training bra - gives me the assurance of knowing the season; hints that I'm moving to the authentic me; I have no control over the blossoming breasts, but provide a safe space for their development;  it's a boundary; suggests the beauty of something ahead.

I told my mother-in-law off today

I had a dream earlier in the week about being robbed and the person putting some kind of putty stuff on my throat and I was unable to call for help or wake up my husband who was sleeping nearby oblivious.

I won't go into the gory details, but a mentor and confidente said to be grateful for the gift of dreams, one of God's ways of being in touch with us.  "Be thankful for this season of finding your voice".  So I did just that today and told my mother-in-law off, which I've never done before.  I'm not sure who was more surprised, her or me!

I can't understand this place I am in:  don't like my brittle temper;  am embarrassed by tears that seem to be lurking high above sea level;  am fearful of our looming move....  My life seems in turmoil, yet I seem to have so much insight, patience and grace for clients and friends.  Today I asked two people how they were being kind to themselves.  Do I need to be asking that question of myself.

Why does life seem to be so murky?  I'm trying to discern the strands of peri-menopause, financial pressure, purpose, God's invitations, fear.  What could be my next response? Solitude and solace. Placedo, finding the home of our soul according to Dr Clarissa Pinka Estes, storyteller extraordinaire.

What about our expectations?

At the moment, most of my work efforts seem to be coming to nought, so today I sat and thought about my life.  One of my realisations was my expectations.  I threw a few toys and told my husband I had expectations for provision, significance, adventure, fun, fitting in.  He smiled and bought me a watering can! What if these expectations can't be met?

So now if I review our situation - I'm trusting to find my 'Flower Shop' (for another post); we have everything we need; I might have to clean my own house, but so do millions of other people around the world;  I'm looking to see what I can do in the small.

This reviewing was done after a good Americano in a nursery cum coffee shop, where I drooled over spring flowers and eclectic styling.  I left in a far better frame of mind and was able to tick a few things off my list.

Daily thanks

Today was a good day. I have much to be grateful for.
A friend and I decided to have a meeting in God's office and sat by the edge of a river in the shade while our girls paddled, caught tadpoles and snacked with enthusiasm.  It was a good day at the office.
Another friend was hi-jacked (which is not what I'm grateful for), but I'm grateful for his friends who rallied round to provide phones, cars, lifts, support, friendship.
I put aside my mac, which I do very reluctantly during work hours, and played cards with my daughter, watered my vege garden and had tea.
I ate sweet mange tout straight off the vine.
Today was a good day.

Today was a good day

I took my daughter for an extended picnic, played stuck in the mud with her and a friend and just did 'mom' stuff.  No pressure to work, earn any cash, tidy the house or any middle class suburbia stuff.

We're moving at the end of the month - to Kalk Bay.  All my insecurities that are supported by middle-class suburbia are raised.  Commuting, being away from my community, living in an eclectic village.  My delights though are the view of the harbour from the porch and office, the view of the mountain from the back yard; coffee and almond croissants at the Olympia Bakery; our boat 'garaged' right in the harbour mouth, just across the street; community all tucked up together in this beautiful little bay, fringed by bobbing fishing boats.

When we get something that we have been longing for, why do we wonder about it and question the gift?

Candles and Rummicub over dinner

I think I'll just start with today, otherwise I don't know where to start.

My current liminal space was injected with a splash of hope today.  My daughter decided that we should have a candlelight picnic on our lounge floor and play Rummicub over dinner.  My husband thought his 45 year old knees wouldn't manage, but we did.  Thank you my sweet thing for your sense of occasion.  When the space feels nowhere, I find it difficult to be making the most of life.  I keep waiting for the next thing to happen, but it doesn't.  We need to do today.

I work. I love working.  I love working hard.  This space seems so hard.  In my past life (although I don't believe in reincarnation), I have always worked hard.  That's how you got ahead, that's where I got my recognition from.  That's how you make money.  You don't get wealthy from doing nothing, says the critic on my shoulder.  But if I look back at the last 25 years.  I have worked really hard and made very little money.  When all my friends were buying designer outfits, I was making my own or trawling factory shops, Okay I admit, it was sometimes by choice, simplicity and all that.

So now we've launched a new business, I've changed career paths, I should be working hard to make it happen.  But I can't.

I'm currently reading a fascinating book - women, food and god by Geneen Roth.  It's the unexpected path to almost everything.  I'm finding everything!

Tonight I was reading about Restrictors and Permitters.  We're either one or the other.  You can't opt out.  Obviously her reference is to food, but I realised tonight that I'm a Restrictor on all fronts.  "Restrictor's believe in control.  Of themselves, their food intake, their environments.  Wherever possible, they'd also like to control the entire world".  I create worries for myself if I can't find something to control.

"For a Restrictor, deprivation is comforting because it provides a sense of control".  I've been anorexic and bulemic, so I know this to be true.

My husband is a Permitter.  Any kind of rules are abhorrent.  "They see no point in trying to control the uncontrollable, and have decided that its best to be blurry and numb and join the party.  Have a good time.

I think I have to work hard for both of us.

My husband made a lot of money two years ago and now it's all gone.  I feel ashamed, disappointed, fearful and embarrassed. We should have done it differently.  So even in my abundance I am a Restrictor.

I am privileged to be with a spiritual director, who I spend time with regularly.  She's encouraging me at the moment to look past the situation and to see what God is putting his finger on in my life.  I'm finding this hard.  I'm a Restrictor, I want to be in control and I can't be in control of the situation.

So at the moment all I can do is to humbly submit to Step 2 of the 12 Step programme - We came to believe that  Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

Virtual Journal

I journal.  I blog.
Somehow at the moment the tirades in a neat spiral bound moleskin don't cut it.  Why do I need to journal out loud?  Whatever the reasons, I've been wanting to do this undercover cyberjournaling for a while.
I need to backtrack in my mind, as much has happened to get me here.