Lately George has developed an aversion to photos, whereupon his mom has to beg, plead and bribe him to even look her way.
And even then, well…
The odds aren’t great that the photo will turn out.
I think, perhaps, this might be an extension of what I call his “Little Prince” syndrome, i.e. “Why should I do what anyone tells me when clearly—CLEARLY—they are here to serve me? I am, after all, the baby.”
Don’tcha see that big belly your momma’s sporting?
Conversely, though, I could use George’s “shyness” as a metaphor for my life. I’m not really feeling photogenic either; I don’t feel like being in the public eye either. Rather, I’m more or less feeling quite puny right now—well, as “puny” as one can feel at this weight.
(Don’t ask. Don’t you even ask.)
What it comes down to is this: I’m not really sure what I want to share in this space. What do I have that will be a blessing to you when I feel like God is testing me to my very limits?* There’s a definite vulnerability that comes from uncertainty. With seven months’ worth of this unemployment stuff…and Baby-Beebums-on-the-Way and the upcoming elections…
Well, I’m beating a familiar drum here, aren’t I. You must be thinking, “Really? Must we really and truly discuss this still?” That’s just it, though. I feel so myopic in my vision—like I can’t see the forest for all these uncertain trees.
My·op·ic, adjective: Pertaining to or having myopia; unable or unwilling to act prudently; shortsighted.
Myopic means thinking that life will be easier when [insert better set of circumstances here].
Myopic = Me.
And plus…and plus…
There’s all this political stuff getting flung about online—election stuff & marriage amendment stuff & Obama stuff & Dear Mr. Romney Why Can’t You Just be Perfect? (He’s not. I know that. Is he the lesser of two evils, though? Is he a better choice than our violently pro-abortion president?)
Anyway, it all makes me want to stay away.
It makes me want to
bury my head in the sand go bake cookies and cuddle up with my prince.
And yet…and yet….when I stay away too long I feel disconnected, and that is the point—for me—of the internet. It’s finding my balance and finding my way…
And finding the occasional friend who says, “I get you.”
*Ed. Note: I do think that being tested is a blessing, though I have to reconcile my weakness with a greater trust in God’s love. No, I’m not feeling very productive these days, but as John Milton wrote in the sonnet On His Blindness: “God doth not need either man’s work or his own gifts. Who best bear his mild yoke, they serve him best.”