The Weekend's End

It's Sunday evening and the house is mostly quiet. I'm doing laundry and just a minute or two ago heard a small animal scamper across the roof above my head. Probably a squirrel. In years gone by a cat would stare into the back dormer and meow, or crawl onto the edge of the open window over the driveway and ask to come inside. No cats live here now.

Weather wise it's been a gorgeous weekend. Emotionally, I am drained. If it were possible, I'd pluck myself from this present life and drop myself into a different one, one without so many hurts and questions. There would be different pains in a different life, but maybe the answers would be clearer... Then again, maybe not.
(old photo alert)

I am hurting. I am angry. I feel helpless. I hate being hurt. I hate seeing others hurt. I hate feeling like I am hurting those I love. I miss my kids, my grandchildren, and my home. I miss my cats, my chickens, and the apple orchard. I miss the Barefoot Lumberjack. I miss having a general sense of where life was taking me. Instead there are no easy answers and I am exhausted looking for them.

I have a warm and cozy place to live, but it is just an attic bedroom. I have a job that provides for me, but the little arms around my neck are not those of my grandchildren. I have friends, but I don't know who to call when I am alone. My mom in law doesn't answer my messages and my own parents are gone. I am more than blessed, but I am still lonely, and we are far from having worked through our difficulties. God is here and He provides, but today I couldn't help but think of a story I heard years ago. It relates, in a small way, to my perspective of where we are.  I know the Cabinetmaker doesn't share my view, and that is okay because I have  my own things to work through. I am doing so in the best way I know and God hears my cry. I know He's listening, holding me, and taking me where He wants me to be. I trust Him, but I still ache and that ache leaves me tired and emotionally drained. I am looking forward to little arms around my neck tomorrow. Those little ones put back into my soul what gives me life and hope.