Oh The Tangled Web We Weave

The doc says this 30+ year old hernia has to go. I worked hard for that appendage, with my four behemoth babies that I carried around both inside and outside for about a decade. Many a 50-pound sack of dog food or chicken feed has been hauled. Countless ladders have been climbed. My body has been twisted into tortuous angles to reach my paintbrush into the vague corners of extensive cabinetry in more houses than I can count. They tell me that I can't put it off anymore, because it's starting to persecute me with excruciating pain on occasion. Well, more like every other day now. Since I don't want to become a prescription drug addict or end up with this thing twisted around my head...I guess I'm going. Next week, the day before Thanksgiving. Yes, it's true. I figured it was a better time than the week before Christmas. 

So instead of spring cleaning, I thought I'd clean out all those places in the house that nobody sees. Somehow I thought that would make me feel better about having to go under the knife. You know what your Mama says about wearing clean underwear (in case you have an accident)? This felt sort-of like that, don't ask me why. It is amazing what grows inside all these trunks and cabinets and closets. I send out bags and boxes every two weeks to charities, but there's some kind of breeding program going on inside those chester drawers (I know it's supposed to be chest-of-drawers, but that ain't how we say it down here). I went through every room with a trash can and a box for giveaways. They're gonna call the PC police on me for loading up the landfill. I really do feel bad about that. Why is there so much trash? After it was all said and done, I ended up having the last couple of days completely at home. So in between real estate negotiations (which actually involves considerable amounts of prayer time) and meals, I finished up the last drawers and did about 500 loads of laundry. Then I vacuumed, the crowning glory of housekeeping. I sit here tonight, with a tangled contract now untangled, a house humming because it's all clean, and the quiet rumble of the train running by. I'm loaded for bear. 

When I told my dear pastor Sunday that I was scared, he gave me words of wisdom. I told him that it sure seems to me that I don't do a real good job of trusting the Lord, even this far down the line. He said, "Rose, it's not that you don't trust the Lord. It's just that He keeps sending you new mountains to climb." He knows I prefer the beach to the mountains, but then again, the beach has the undertow. And sharks. So we're good.