Tag: weary in well doing

Do It Twice

It’s ridiculous how many times I’ve written, “I’m tired but…”, this year. Penzu sent me a journaling memory that was written a year ago and it started with those words. I’m trying to pause pushing myself through tired.

In my 20’s I acquired an over achiever mindset, so by the time I hit my 30’s I had a successful business and did speaking engagements to teach others the secret to success. In my 40’s life changed, or maybe I did. What looked like a successful life was a very large house empty of the most important thing to me. Happiness. At the age of 49, I blew up my life and hit restart.

I still tend to push myself to over achieve at everything I do, but I’m well into my 50’s now. I have a friend who is younger than me and we Marco Polo almost everyday. She get’s so excited about a new idea or venture she wants to partake in, and I smile and Marco Polo her back with encouragement and an experience from my past of something similar. She’s tells me, “I think you’ve done everything at least twice.”

Ah, but lovely, there’s so much more I’m still willing to do. Our maturity is our ticket to spend less time with job/work, and more time in meaningful work, or simply choose to take on everything in a more meaningful way.

My friend sent a Marco Polo recently with an idea that reflects her heart of gold. I need to Marco Polo her in response because it’s obvious God had a hand in lining everything up. That’s what success looks like for me today. When our preparedness meets His timing, and that will entail laying our heart and hand to something a whole lot more than twice.

Live a Life of Band-Aids

My new thing is wearing nice clothes when leaving the house, but let’s set the bar. I live in faded, blue jeans and t-shirts, so dressing up means nice jeans, a silk shirt and smart looking shoes. 😉

As mentioned in Feel the Music, my friend and I met for our monthly coffee/tea. I wanted to wear something nice and took time to choose my outfit the evening before. Some of my prettier shirts call for ironing and my people are important enough to use an iron if needed.

When we met, she appreciated my choice in clothing, but there was one small problem. I was wearing the wrong shoes. These shoes were one of my favorite ‘slip on and go’ pair of shoes. I remembered them being comfortable enough to walk in all day long, but it’d been a while since I’d worn them and they were crucifying my feet!

It was all I could do to get back home in them. It was odd how they were once so comfortable, but turned into shoes from the devil himself. Entering the house, I kicked them off with a sigh of relief. This made me wonder what else in my life looked comfortable, but capable of pain.

I sat on the edge of my bed to inspect my foot and a blister had formed above the instep. My daughter stood in the doorway inquiring what happened and I told her about the devilish shoes. She said, “You slap three band-aids on it and keep moving.” It didn’t call for three, but I did slap a band-aid on it to continue stepping through life.

Keep living life my darlin’, and stock up on band aides.

“God will take care of what you go through. You take care of how you go through it.”

Zig Ziglar

The Silver Bracelet

My heart is heavy this fall morning in Texas. My best friend in the Chemo room, went to be with the Lord this week. She is healed, happy and whole, but we all miss her smiling face.

When I walked into that room to begin my treatment in April, and God knew I needed a friend. Someone special, that I would connect with immediately. That would be Vicki Davis.

I think I drove her crazy with my positive outlook on life. Nothing she could say would dampen my spirit. She tried to be grumpy with me because she had been down a very long road with this disease. I would smile at her, and just love on her until she smiled in return.

We had an immediate bond, and were good for one another. She showed me what true strength looked like, and I showed her I could love her no matter what. I marveled at everything she, and her body went through, hoping for a cure.

She was growing weary in her fight, and I asked her, “How much can the human body take?” She said, “We will see!”

We were scheduled for Chemo on the same day, Tuesdays, at about the same time. When you are sitting in a Chemo chair, you can either laugh, cry, or sleep. We chose to laugh. Anyone who has heard my laugh knows, it’s loud. Vicki had a laugh that matched. Both of us laughing was quite disruptive.

One time, we sat in a semi private part of the room, away from everybody else. You could look across the room and see everyone lined up sleeping through their treatment. Vicki and I were trying to outdo one another with stories of stupid things we had done in our lives.

We busted out laughing at the same time, and startled the sleeping souls lined up across the way. Like a row of dominoes, they jumped, looked around, relaxed and then smiled. They were relieved it was just us having more fun than we should have been. That was life with Vicki.

My last day of Chemo, as I was getting ready to leave, I felt a tug at my heart. It was time to let go of something very precious to me. I was given a bracelet last Christmas by another lady God placed in my life. Little did that lady know, I would be wearing it during Chemo treatments, a few months later.

My Chemo was coming to an end, but Vicki’s wasn’t quite over yet.

be_still_and_know_2_crop

It was engraved with one of my favorite verses, and encompassed my wrist as a reminder of what I was supposed to be doing. Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God.”

It was a challenge for Vicki and me to sit still in those chairs. It was long hours, but being with Vicki made the time fly by. On my last day of Chemo, the nurses saved a chair for me to sit beside her.

I gazed at her resting in her chair, and sat down in mine. There was silence between the two of us, but the love was always there. Her IV bag was almost empty, as the nurse had just hung mine. I got out of my chair, kneeled down beside her, slid the bracelet off my wrist, and onto hers.

Her eyes opened as she smiled at me groggily.

She touched the bracelet, and regretted not having her reading glasses, so she could see it more clearly. I told her what is was, and what it said, and that I wanted her to have it for the remainder of her journey.

That was not even three weeks ago. It was her last Chemo that day too. Thank you God for bringing her home.