Life continues to get in the way of plans. Glaring out at steady rain, delaying an inevitable road excursion, I am thinking…
Monday, as the sun shone brightly over tropical Cleveland, I made Thursday plans to visit an elderly client. She lives an hour away in some rural area that still forbids Jews. We set it for late afternoon—my thought being that with car top open, I’d drive to the music of my Ipod … in refuge from the real world. They didn’t tell me, though, that three days later it would pour. Still, as one who thrives on the unexpected, I’ll soon be en route.
Last week’s trip to Columbus brought emotional shelter and yet—don’t worry— the real world was right here awaiting my return. As such, sensitive issues, logistical issues still abound. Thank God I’ve had a balanced support group to share with—none of whom judge me by my feelings.
Walt gave me counsel; Hal lent an ear. Both “get” that as I play on this gridiron of multiple tough and intriguing life issues, I no longer stand at midfield. All the while respecting the present… clearly my eye’s on the future.
At one goal post Tom, my friend/psychologist, reminds me of his 2006 diagnosis: HT FIB. (High Tolerance For Inappropriate Behavior). “You can be nice without being a doormat,” he urges. One hundred yards away, under the other crossbars, is my sponsor. If my motives are pure, John says, my actions will be fine. Better yet, he assures: “You’re responsible for the effort, NOT the outcome.”
I am within field goal range of some major decisions. About me, but not JUST me. About the future. About goals. And I’ve looked in the mirror. Closely.
Love? Timing? Faith? Fear?
Four hours on Marc’s elbow at Mountaineer RETAUGHT me a valuable lesson: If you’ve got the best hand you’ve got to play it.
I just need to look at my cards one more time.
I LOVE YOU.