Shelf Life

Dear friends,

I feel pissy. I feel tired. I feel defeated. I feel like hopes are being dashed. I feel dead in the water. I had a few different conversations today with people and both times the topic of plans came up. One of the most devastating things about Lyme (or just about any illness) is that it messing with my dreams, plans, future. I'm not talking about the plans that with equal exchange, as in "I-wanted-the-chocolate-ice-cream-not-the-vanilla." No, I'm talking about the plans that seem unfair and leave me feeling rather alone. I'm talking about the fact that I can't make or count on making any plans. Dreams about my future are only a tease: the carrot dangling in front of me with no reward present. The future is only an abstract idea, something that, when achieved, feels worthy enough to get my picture on the front page of the newspaper but at the same time feels strangely like yesterday's news. Ho hum.

I so want to be positive right now. And hopeful.

All I have is now. All I have is now. Can I be content with now (the present becoming the past) and rejoice when I reach the future (the future becoming the present soon to be the past)? Perhaps plans have a shelf life, to be laid at Jesus' feet and properly grieved over. Then, perhaps we are to embrace the new, perfect plans He gives us in return. Moment by moment.

Is that fair? I'd like it to be. Though I don't think my version of "fair" is God's version. I hope to God I get to see the way He sees justice soon.

A.