Now give

Snags, snarls, and clumps

Woke up this morning to the weather report. Knowing how many layers for morning chores is critical to my survival. Not much to chores with just one scoop for the five or six mousers that we feed. Morning feeding for cats on a farm keeps them doing their job at night: hunting mice. Some times Honey the doodle-dog needs a reminder to get to business rather than herd the feline’s. Out we went with my wind breaker, hat, boots, and mittens.

Then it was time for my own fast breaking with a solitary muffin and some water. Next to the radio voices, mine was pretty dry and scratchy. On to the dog’s grooming routine. It will probably take all day. She was out in the wind and sunshine for a couple of warm springy days. So all that diving after the frisbee made for some pretty good tangles.

This week has a few scheduling trespasses. One for the horse and one for Honey’s spring spa date. Should have made a nail salon date for myself also. The problem is that the farrier for Coco is the same day as Honey’s salon appointment. Or maybe that’s a good thing. No dog to add tension to the pony’s anxiety.

The weather took a dive back into winter this week, so we are back to hats, scarves, and gloves. This bomber’s hat is a crochet version made from two previously not so warm beanies. The ear muff wrap attached inside adds an extra layer of warmth for my sensitive nerves.

Last week I spent some time writing about the changes that my eyesight did to my social life. It was rather depressing, so I tabled the idea for awhile. One of the hardest things for me to handle is the identity change.

Writing about the past brings a lot of emotional pain for me. There is a new note to myself on my white board in my library: “NOW.” We cannot live in the past, it’s over. The past is for books and history lessons. We do not live in the future, it is so very unforeseen and creates fear and anxiety. We live now. This moment. This hour, this day. I choose to live in the NOW.

Letting go of who I use to be means giving room to who I am now. I could go on and on about the me that wants to stay. Gripping the frisbee with all of her might does not give Honey the thrill of the next chase. She has to let go in order to give into her instinct of hunting the prey. The word that is on the training agenda for this week is GIVE.

Give the ball. Give the frisbee. Give the rope. Give the tug. Give the stuffie. Give. Give. Give. You think I would have gotten the message by now. But I still have a lot to learn I guess. Perhaps I should listen up a little better to my own repetitive voice.

The NewLiving Translation for I Peter 5:7 says it this way: “Give all of your worries and cares to God, because He cares about you.”

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