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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Friday, August 24, 2012

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Spider Tracks...

I’ve had a tag-along ride to work with me every morning this week. And he returns home with me, too. And I think the seven miles each way clipping along at 30 miles per hour must be pretty taxing for the little fella, but, yet, each morning, he's there, waiting for me to take off.

A spider has claimed the truck’s outside mirror and driver’s door as his domain. He doesn’t bother me, even though he is a spider, because he hunkers down and hides behind the mirror when I open the door.

His web takes a serious beating from the wind. As does he. At 30 MPH that web is jumping and he's hanging on for dear life. Not pretty at all and I kept expecting to see him flung from his super strong web into certain death. But he hangs on, day after day. He’s either an adrenaline junkie, thinks he scores better hot, fast food than the average spider, doesn’t know any better, or refuses to consider that there are safer yet infinitely more satisfying ways to live life. Or maybe it is that insanity thing I already mentioned. The definition of insanity? Doing the same things and expecting different results. (That’s the socially functional insane, the others are varied and nasty and we don’t want to meet them in dark alleys…spider or otherwise…shudder.)

Why would a spider continue rebuilding a web on an object that randomly takes off at high speeds? Any bug that manages to hit the web at 30 MPH is likely going to put a big hole through the web. Maybe the spider wants to work on his catching arm? But even then, there are better, less dangerous ways to do that, too.

I don't know whether to admire him for his perseverance or place him in an inpatient facility.

Oddly, he may remind me of people I know, a category to which I might belong. Sometimes we are stubborn to an insane level, aren't we? Why would I let the crazy windstorms buffet me, wreck my peace and rattle my brain when it might be an issue I could just let go of? How about clinging to insecurity or beliefs about who I am and what I have to offer the world, even when others tell me I'm crazy to hang onto the two or three comments that made me believe I have no worth in an area. Or refusing to forgive someone until they say the right words from the script I've written and keep hidden in my heart. Or bitterness over __________________________________________ (fill in the blank). Or refusing to live this big, amazing life until I complete ___________________________ (fill in the blank).

After I arrived at work yesterday I found out a fatality happened in an area where & and I regularly walk the dogs. A woman went out to take her early morning walk, another was headed somewhere in her car. The sun was rising, bright and blinding, and a fatal connection was made. Two lives changed in a heartbeat, two women who probably didn't wake up and say, "Today, my life will be forever altered." as they crossed the threshold into their futures. They likely just went about their business, not knowing what the next minute might hold.

I want to take lessons from these two very different scenarios. Perseverance is a thing of beauty when you are talking about Olympic athletes, choosing to do the difficult things to make a better life, sticking out a relationship that is a commitment and maybe a little bogged down but not poisonous. But stubbornness might very well be insanity in disguise.

And, I have no promises that tomorrow is mine, that it will be beautiful, that I will be able to see the sun set. If tomorrow was my last day on earth, what would I want it to look like? What would I want to leave behind in the hearts, minds and souls of those who knew me? Do I know what happens to the essence of me after I die?  Do I have an emotional or relational list that I will leave unfinished, incomplete, or torn to shreds? And am I okay with all my answers to those questions? 

I hope your day is altered only by blessings and goodness today.