The summer slowdown has begun. To be honest I think I started mine in February but now I can admit it to myself. Suddenly July is almost upon us and in spite of the fact that I literally cross days off on my calendar – it seems to have sneaked up on me. Again.
This time of year is so full little extras, sports day, field trips, grad ceremonies, trip planning, packing, booking stuff and having to open my credit card bill with the same steely determination as ripping off a band aid but with a more all-encompassing agony. I have grown accustomed to keeping a paper bag handy to assist me during the inevitable panic attack. Last night I dreamed about trying to run up a sand dune made of coins. I never did reach the top and woke, exhausted, to discover the cat had spent the night performing a bell-ectomy on one of his mouse toys. I guess that explains the constant jingling noise of the coins at least. Though I don’t think I need to contact Freud to discover what that particular dream means.
I wish I was one of those people who sit down every few months and review their finances, check calendars and dates of payments, think ahead and plan for big expenses or even have contingency plans for unexpected disasters. People like that are like Bigfoot – I’m told by some that such people exist but I have great difficulty believing it, and if indeed there are such humans in existence I’m pretty sure they would smell weird and we wouldn’t be able to communicate with each other in any meaningful way.
Another person I would like to be is that mythical beast who likes getting up early and immediately busies themselves cleaning and being cheerful and optimistic. I’m told you can train yourself to be this way and I was very interested in learning how until I heard the words “set your alarm for 5 am” at which point I tuned out and started wondering what an otter crossed with a weasel would look like. The answer to that is “cute” and they would be called Ottels. They would swim about in a particularly sneaky fashion. A group of them would be called a “wattle” or “flotilla” and I would very much enjoy hearing people referring to a flotilla of ottels. The babies would be referred to as “smidgeons”.
I remember doing a jigsaw puzzle years ago. It was 1000 pieces and the picture was just a load of baked beans. It was a nightmare. There was zero clues in the picture about where things should fit and I found myself stumped quite quickly. Even when I thought I was getting somewhere it would turn out that one of earlier “right” pieces was in fact, not right and that messed up the rest of the wretched thing. I don’t remember what happened to that puzzle but I believe it involved the application of fire.
So this, then, is how I comfort myself – the more I try to make myself fit into what I consider the “right place” the more I mess up the picture further afield and possibly prevent the completion of some great non-bean related grand plan of which I have no knowledge. Nothing can be “forced to fit”, it’s an oxymoron like “temporary tattoo” or “high interest TFSA” (this last as I have zero interest in any such thing, and certainly not a high amount).
22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.
So that’s that then. Stop trying to change, keep praying and let the Holy Spirit do the rest. To build upon the fruit analogy – a tomato is a fruit – but that doesn’t mean it belongs on top of a cream covered scone. I’m going to sit where I fit.