I've taken a little break from blogging. I didn't mean to. It sort of just happened. The early mornings are so quiet in my house I could, if I chose to be super disciplined, blog every single morning. But most mornings I'd rather quietly absorb than speak. Then there's the social media overload. I feel like I'm talking too much.
Then there's the life that is not fully mine that I live outside of my hour of quietness every morning. I never know which grandbaby I might be snuggling with after work, or what kind of day my husband has had, or which chore has to be done and it better be tonight. Or if the almost two year old will be snuggly and giving me fishy face kisses or chucking toys at any adult in his realm of rage.
As a matter of fact, I should feel so much freer. Our church has dissolved and become home to another church. For the first time in over twenty years I am not a leader in our church. No meetings. No cleaning crew. No early arrival for practice. No committee conversations. Not one thing on my calendar I need to attend because I should show support because I'm a leader. I don't even know if "our" church is going to end up being in the same building we've worshipped in for 25 years. Church shopping is interesting. And I don't know if that's good or bad. There is something so freeing about not having someone come up to me and know who I am. I don't have labels yet while church shopping. But, I'm not a woman who loves to shop either, so there's that.
My job has ramped up. Granted it's not a job where I'm attached to my phone 24-7. I don't have a lot of decisions to make. And it's not life or death. But it has grown to absorb more hours of my life. Something as tiny as having 1/2 hour lunch deducted whether you take a 1/2 break or not is an irksome reality and it etches out time from living my life. I don't want to sit in a break room. Or walk the halls of a clinic or absorb the outdoor air that is full of dust from construction or smoke. Leaving campus in not a reality when it takes 6 minutes to get to the office and 6 minutes to get to the car parked in employee parking. So I end up eating, chatting and heading back to my desk to at least be productive. Part of my job is trained monkeyish. I do a lot of scanning. Oh, it's necessary. And I certainly will gladly accept my paycheck that is based on my licensed skillset regardless of whether I'm actively doing a service they can bill for, or scanning, or waiting to see if a patient will show up or not.
Then there's the work fog of being in three different locations doing different tasks in each and not really knowing what is actually on my agenda too far in advance. And the learning curve. Every last one of those situations is full of learning and correction. The policy and guidelines and expectations are clear and very black and white but while that's true, it's also true that the computer part of it all gives us three or four different ways to do the exact same thing. I find myself often accidentally discovering a short cut or another way of doing something but not really knowing how that happened or if I can remember how to do it again.
Then the weeks of intense learning curves of late, then the plunging in and trying to translate book knowledge with a manual you cannot consult because there are literally phones ringing and impatient providers standing over you with a task that must be done now on-the-spot, hold-your-breath-and-guess training. Merging that with watching kids so mom can attend two weddings in one weekend and joining the herd for a baby shower, or softball game, or trip to Target, or dinner. And something in my very taxed brain had to give. And friends. The blog was it.
But come back soon. Because Rob went to the lake with two grandkids and I've spent so much time with the littles and there are so many stories. I will tell them.
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.