I'm sitting here staring at the screen debating. Do I post about this? Or this? Do I post the happy, cute-sy, my-child-is-funny-and-brilliant stories? Or do I spill my thoughts? Do I share my gut-wrenching grief, or just tell a few jokes so I don't depress anyone?
I guess you are all privy to the battle in my mind today, and I'll just have to work it out on screen. I am grieving over Linda all over again. This one yar marker has been more difficult than I ever imagined. I have NEVER in my LIFE been a "visit-the-cemetary" kind of person. I always thought it was bizarre. Especially when people talk. It's like, hello, no one is in there! But I am completely COMPELLED to go! I haven't yet. But I miss her so much... I understand it now.
Joyce Meyer wrote a book called Battlefield of the Mind. Is that not the most appropriate title? I believe 90% of our "issues" are in the mind. Because it is only when my mind is weak, when my emotions take over my life that I feel frustrated, lonely, isolated, angry, and just plain depressed. If I can stay at the place where the Lord is the center of my universe, the capturer of my thoughts, the basis of my emotion, then life is bearable. But to stay in that place...therein lies the battle.
I suppose it's the oldest battle of all time...good verses evil. It's the theme of TV shows, children's tales, movies, Christianity...I imagine the list goes on and on. The constant struggle to stay on top of the never ending cycle of temptation, worry, defeat, hopelessness, anger, frustration. Disappointment.
When Paul wrote about fighting the good fight, well, my friends, he chose his words well. This is a fight. It is a fight to the Death. Or Life. I need strength to continue. I know that my strength comes from the Maker of Heaven; I also know I need encouragement, and I just plain haven't been getting much. Doug has been working his tail off in the quonset hut getting ready for winter...and those of you who know him know he can't do anything half-way. He built an entire workshop in the back corner. He had to move the deer cleaning station back a few feet to fit the boat in front of it, so he tore the whole thing apart and rebuilt it with a different design. He built racks for all the wood he has in there (mostly 2 x 4's, 2 x 6's, wood flooring) and moved it all piece by pice, BY HIMSELF onto the racks. We look like Menards now. So it will be wonderful when it's done; in the meantime, it's all me on the homefront.
Stop the roller coaster please. It stalled on the corkscrew part and all the blood is rushing to my head and I think I'm going to pass out.