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,