The Book of Revelations, Chapter 7, Verses 16 and 17
They shall hunger no more, neither shall they thirst anymore!
For God shall wipe away...
Every tear from their eyes!
Get ready for a Revolution!
Whoot! Whoot! Yeah so sue me... I like to throw in a little Kirk Franklin when I can.
So back to the lecture at hand... life sometimes throws you lemons. It undoubtedly will and at that moment, you have to make a choice of what to do with those lemons. Do you take shots of vodka trimmed with sugar to numb the burn? Do you make lemonade? Or do you use them as inspiration for your next adventure ... like, trying a lemon drop martini or baking lemon squares or lemon risotto basil? Is the lemon a garnish to your favorite fish or fruit dish? Do you pile them in a bowl for centerpiece? Do you throw them away because you can't bare to even try to enjoy them?
Or are you like me ... you slice the lemon being oh so careful not to squirt it in your eye, smell it, squeeze a tad for a hint of flavor praying to God it doesn't burn your open wound hang nail, scrunch your nose to the sour yet sweet goodness and hope you didn't squeeze out more than you can handle?
I have held onto my lemons for long enough. Almost to the point of rotting... so I sliced it up all nice and thin and I have decided to make lemonade. Today, as I hold up my glass of lemonade ... I say a cheers (and/or good riddance) to the job I am leaving behind.
I turned in my notice for work today. It felt good. No, it felt great. I have Senior-itis. Like my senior year of high school, when I knew only one more 6 weeks left and I was tossing that sucker to the wind. Onto bigger and better things. It's like I get a do over at life. Except with a lot more experience and stability under my belt. And a heck of a lot more support. If I didn't have the husband I do, I could not imagine this new adventure taking place.
I have so many thoughts, so many ideas, so many grand schemes racing through my mind. Excitement and fear and girlish giggles, and hopes and dreams and faith, and a butt load of trust just bubbling and spurting out of me like a geyser just waiting for those creative juices to erupt into the great gifts and talents God has given me. They have been buried behind a desk for too many years. It's time ... Release me, I say! Free this bird!
All the while, I am laughing at myself because there is one lemon I did have to throw into the garbage, rotted to the core. My iPhone ... he is six feet under, and I am carrying around an ancient Sony Ericsson, tapping at it like an old blue hair. I cannot even figure out how to turn the volume up. It's sad really. Sad that Apple has made everything so easy and now what used to be the norm is nothing but troubles.
But instead of getting three sheets to the wind and recovering from a massive hangover, on New Year's Day, I will be celebrating freedom and newness. Free to discover a whole new me. Free to make mistakes. A new life. A new adventure. It's going to be difficult at times and I would be kidding myself if I didn't expect some troubles. But He won't leave me. He won't forsake me. He promised to always lead me. If there is one thing I know, it's that I am not alone. I am not the first one to take on this adventure, to travel this road. Nowadays it is the road less traveled. However, I know it's the right move. And better yet... We know it's the better move. And if I was a betting girl, I would bet my whole pile on this better life. It's what's right for us ... what's good for us ... and what's beneficial for us.
I had a fleeting thought today...
I saw my daddy smiling down at me... I must have been somewhere between eight and nine years old. He was telling me what a good job I did and how creative I was. He was so proud. I could see the proudness glowing around him. I had taken a piece of fire wood (kindling actually), cut a bird from a piece of old wall paper and modge podged (decoupaged) it to the wood, covering the wood in the clear glue so that it shined all over... and with a pink paint pen I wrote (not sure why I chose such a manly color) something to the extent of what a great dad he was.
And a few years later when they cleaned out his office and sent his belongings home to the deceased's family ... there, in the box, were the drawings and home made cards we had given him on Father's Day, the pictures of his children he so proudly displayed, the plaques he received for all his hard work... and at the bottom of the box, the heaviest item.... sitting like an anchor to it all... the piece of bird decoupaged wood I had made him.
I know I am creative. I know I have it in me to do great things. I have always been afraid of rejection and failure. But I will not let it define me any longer. He would not want it. I do not want it. I am destined for greatness and if I let anything hold me back... I am telling my children they should allow the same.... And that just isn't fair.
It's time to spread my wings and fly. After all, did He not tell me to mount up with wings like an eagle, that I would run and not get tired, that I would walk and not become weary? Who am I to argue?