Pickle In The Middle

 In my observation the pursuit of life can be narrowed down to two types of people. 

The first grabs life by the throat and says I will choke the marrow out of you! They see what they want out of life and go after it. The pursuit is part of the pleasure to conquer the challenge. 

The second person does not pursue but waits for life to be dropped into their lap all the while not realizing that life is sucking them dry.   

I always believed myself to be the first. Life to me was like a quote from a famous veggie, "I laughed, I cried, it moved me Bob". But now I feel stuck somewhere between the two. Like a "pickle in the middle" I watch overhead as life volleys back and forth taunting me to reach up and grab it. But as I reach to grab the delight of the day, it skims past just beyond my fingertips. In it's path follows the twilight of things that were and the dark night of things to come. I know I cannot return to the contentment of the pre-twilight for that day has already passed. So, I peer pessimistically into the shadow of the future trying to cultivate contentment while standing on middle ground.   

There was a time when I was content. I was a stay at home mom and I relished it! The cooking, the baking, the 'candlestick making' were all part of the pursuit. 

Things were not ideal. We lived in a miniature house with a fenced in postage stamp of a back yard. We had five kids, a dog and two cats. Our oldest daughter was physically disabled and could only get around in a motorized wheelchair, which made it seem like there were five kids and a small armored tank parked in our house. Rick worked for his parents in their small carpet store and earned a pittance of a salary. There was barely enough money to see us through the week and never any left over but I was content. All of that was part of the challenge to wrap my hands around life and choke the best out of it.  

But that was then. For now, I'll remain the pickle in the middle. I'll keep reaching up to catch life by the throat because I know the best is yet to be! 

 

A Day Late And A Dollar Short

Lately, I live with this "day late, dollar short" disposition. I say disposition rather than attitude because it feels so much a part of me that it's difficult to change it. Can I really change my life by thinking positively? Do all busts lead to booms?

At my age (which didn't feel old to me a couple of years ago but feels ancient to me now) can I really get up, dust myself off and start over? I feel more like giving up not starting over. Although, I'll admit the prospect of "hope" glimmers before me. Yes, that spark is still in my heart and I hope it is enough to light the fire and ignite the passion for life that I once enjoyed.

There was a time when I sang in the morning in spite of the hardships. A past time when the poetry filled missives I wrote filled me up and the darkest hour burst forth with a miracle sunrise. But right now it seems the chill of winter hangs ominously over me. Death has become more a reality in life than in death itself. I live most days in emotional pain and I feel the sharp bite of bitterness tear into my heart. Some days it feels like it would be easier to let myself be overcome and torn to shreds rather than turn and face my attacker. The warrior that once lived within me and wielded a sword is weary. I have grown depressed and discouraged. My prayers have been reduced to weeping and repetitious mumbling of the name Jesus.

Ultimately though, I know I will give in to that hope. I will imagine that perhaps today, tomorrow or sometime in the near future things WILL be brighter. I will bury the past and all will be fresh like springtime. My garden will begin to bloom and the once dry and barren ground will come alive with the sights, sounds and smells of a May day. A day where daffodils and daisies smile at me and sing, "it's a clear day, rise and look around you...."