So, it all plods and trots and gallops along.

The title of this post is just a random title because one has to entitle a post for the blog.  I have no idea what I am going to write about, I just have a little time to ponder.   I suppose that's why people probably title their posts at the end of writing?   I know not.   All I know is that as far as giving titles to my writing or my sermons, I usually end up with something pretty lame.   The kicker is that we do our bulletin on Wednesday, so I have to have a title for my sermon, when I have had just the scantest of time to simply skim the readings, read some thoughts on textweek, but with no real direction.   It's not really fair, is it--to give something a title before it has been created?   Or maybe it's just what it is.   Not a big deal--at least in my world. 

So, the grey beautiful boy pitbull is now truly my official foster dog.   We were just having him for a houseguest over Christmas while the adopter went off on Christmas.  Guess who didn't come back and get the big boy?  No answers to multiple phone calls or texts or emails.   Some people, I tell ya.  My wonderful Beloved and I decided (in spite of the chaos it adds to our home) that we couldn't bear to uproot him one more time to another foster, then only to be adopted to another home.  Dogs like consistency, and we feel committed to him.   (I personally Adore This Dog, but again, it's not the right time for us.)

So Tye, Titan, Teety Tie, Tooter (many variations of his name) has become quite the lovely office dog.  The first few times I had him here before Christmas, before he was adopted, when I was just helping with him and not really fostering him, he was kind of crazy.  Today he has curled up on his bed and slept in between rounds of playing tug of war with him.  He is a GOOOOOD Boy.

Been wrestling with a few things at work.  Transition just is yuck.   It's emotionally wearing on me--which I am allowing myself to recognize, and to reach out for help and support in appropriate places.
I am blessed with amazing and caring supports.    I feel like a baby, because I do have some big tear spillage with my safe supports (darn perimenopause on top of all this...) and at my age, it's embarrassing.   However, I need to let myself have the tears--some of it feels like old grief unrecognized, and some of it feels new and fresh.  While welcoming the tears, I try to consciously remember how strong I am--that strong core inside of me, that God-core.......because recently that has been shook.  Shook, shaken...but it hasn't gone anywhere.  It still is within, and is a deep well of,  all the me-ness that I am.  

So, this is where I am today.   Now, off to create some administrivia for others! 

Cheers and love,
Me-ness

So, it's Tuesday

..and I am back to work. 
Did the bulletin stuff TWICE because I was going with the Baptism of Jesus, and everyone else was going with Epiphany.  I let the the crowd sway me and now will be pondering Those Other Roads we take in life when something changes us.  Or something like that.

I have been in a bit of a funk all fall/holidays.  Lots of reasons for this, but I am happy to say that today, I am feeling much more of the energy of me.   I think having time off and totally being slothful and unconnected was a good thing.

I'm not one for resolutions, per say, but I do like to think about endings and beginnings at a time like this.

So...one of the things I look forward to this year in my ministry is to be more creative and spontaneous, and not get into the rut of "this is what we do every year."   We set our calendar during the summer, and then there are few places for suprise and spirit and sheer joy.  I won't participate, I say!   Let's love this Beloved Life together!  Let's have joy in being Good News to our corner fo the world! 

Personally, well, I am looking forward to listening to myself better.   Last summer and fall I had a personal trainer at the gym.  I. Loved. Him.   Loved. loved. loved.     Unfortunately, he had to make a sudden out of state  move in mid October and we had to break up.   I went into mourning, and just stopped exercising.  Mostly, anyway. Stoooopid. I tried to do it on my own a couple of times, but it's not the same--you look kind of funny running up and down the stairs at the gym without someone shouting at you to keep going when there is a stairmaster next to the steps.    I know I COULD do this on my own, and that I SHOULD do this on my own, but...frankly, I respond better with a coach. 

So, I am going to find a trainer again--because it was fun.  I liked getting muscles in my arms, and being able to do killer situps.  Now I can't even do one. (like the kind we did in gym class when we were 13--not crunches.)  I've let myself go, but I give myself permission to do what I need to be motivated.    I already have an appointment.  

Middle age thoughts sort of dog me lately.   I will be 49 this calendar year.   In some ways, I have let my life live me in my 40's--kind of, sort of.  I can't really explain this coherently to myself in my head and heart, let alone with real words on paper (o.k., cyber paper).   It's just a feeling that floats a bit around my consciousness.  So, I want to think more about this.   How to intentionally and lovingly and
honestly Live my life.   More on that later.

Oh, and this actually should have been first, but I want to be more generous.   I will be more generous.

That's about it for now.  I am kind of in between projects here at my desk so thought I would just have a chat here on my blog.  

And now,
on with the other stuff.

Cheers!

Happy New Year!

It's Monday, and I am sliding back into the saddle,
but dang, it is a bumpy ride.
I am "working from home"   and there are workpeople here,
Beloved is home,
and the wild life is dogging me, literally.

The foster dog has found his voice--it's loud and booming.
My youngest dog is wrestling him and being an overall brat.

There is so much I need to do,
which means, probably, that I have a lot I just need to let go,
and let be,
and just take one step at a time.  

Working on that, God.
Amen.