Forgive me for complaining about the job in the yard. I’ve been pessimistic. Thinking I just don’t have it. Thoughts come in, and I forget that I need to take them captive.
“I can’t do it.” . . .
“We don’t have the resources to do it the way I want it.” . . .
“You, dear hard-working husband, don’t have time or energy to do what I want done. Cutting down those three towering OAKS that allow no sunlight in my yard for flowers – I cannot do it alone, my female self” [Might the Lord be teaching me patience?]
The truth is, I don’t want to have to do it. I want my yard to be ‘insta-pretty’ and . . . I’m sorry that I forgot that I actually do enjoy doing it. I just don’t have time right now. And I hate messy. And I’ve been having this pain in my elbow . . .
And considering that – life is messy – so, maybe us being forced into this place of ‘starting over’ at our age is a custom-made trial by our Father for this perfectionistic wife of yours. Wanting all things beautiful. ASAP. Please.
I coveted my neighbor’s yard when I went for a walk today. [Forgive me Father, for I love beauty too much [?]] . . . or I suppose there is an underlying cause. I want my yard to be showy. [?]
This one ^
My yard and my face and my physique. But I’m in a testing time with all of that too. Yeah. I found out that just when I got to the place of self-forgetfulness regarding my appearance, BAM, I feel like a schoolgirl again – facing the inevitable decline.
Along with my challenge with coveting, I have committed the sin of comparison. To those half my age who are accomplishing so much more than I ever did at your age. It seems you have more wisdom than I do now.
OH! Get behind me Satan!!!
I keep telling the old voice to SHUT UP! I am going from glory to glory. Because I am no longer of this world, new creation and all. Strength to strength and glory to glory. My sagging skin and greying hair is glory. How is that again?
Though outwardly we are wasting away, inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 2 Corinthians 4:16
This aging gets me closer to the grave, when I will get my new body.
That will be glory! [And can I please have normal thumbs and thin thighs?]
I forget that when I complain, it burdens your heart. [not to mention it insults God, so yeah, this letter is to Him too. Actually, maybe to Him first.]
So, it was the look on your face after I spilled my weary words all over you that brought this soul conviction. What happened to my sense of adventure with you that has carried us through all this wild
And I may be growing older in body, but may my heart and mind continue to embrace the challenges with gusto.
May I not sink into low-thinking. Dear Jesus, please!
So, I am ‘over it’! And moving forward. I will take what I have and make the best of it. I have a lot of hastas and ferns, they grow in shade. I will THANK GOD that my body works. I will stick a shovel in sod, and move those cement blocks in the wheelbarrow. I will pull the creeping charlie and turn over the soil in that old forsaken garden.
And I will PRAISE GOD when I do it, for His amazing grace that saved a wretch like me from that horrid attitude that surfaced today. And His mercy that is new tomorrow – forgetting the whole ugly of my heart from today. Will you please forgive me too?
And thank you. Thank you for all you do.