I’ve gotten to a point in my painting frenzy where I have ceased to be productive–I’m throwing paint onto a surface without clear plans as to what will become of it, and I can’t make anything work. I look around at what I have and the only word that comes to mind is “shitty”. The art market is on Saturday. It’s time to shut down and hope for the best.
Plus, my family will be pleased to know that they can eat at the table again.
I’m calling in specialists to help me set my booth up real pretty. I’ve never really been great at decorating–I guess that takes a different kind of creative. All my friends have offered to loan me stuff–tents, tables, ladders, chairs, easels. One of my friends even volunteered to hang with me all day, for moral support and also to make sure I don’t give my paintings away, because businesswoman I am not.
I am killing ants like a mammajamma today. They keep infiltrating the system and it’s driving me nuts. There’s nothing I hate more than ants in my house. (Ask me that after we get termites or snake-infestation or something.) “They” say bugs are bad this year because of the mild winter we had. I will fight to the death to keep ants out of my house. I will put industrial-strength bug spray in my mouth and spray it through my lips at the ants; that’s how hardcore dedicated I am to the annihilation of insects everywhere. I’m like the honeybadger that way–my friends call me Whiskers.
Stuff back home in Florida has hit the fan in a massive way. My sister is pregnant and alone. I can’t believe what’s happened to her. On the upside, my heart is warmed at the outpouring of love and support she has recieved from family and friends, but for my life, I cannot fathom how a person can treat another person the way she is being treated–it’s cruel torture, really. Occasionally, I find myself actually thinking it’s all just a really bad dream. I’m dealing with a rage unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, and in a way it’s probably good I live all the way up here in Oklahoma.
I try to pray about it, but most of the time my mind wanders into dangerous “God will you please strike somebody with leprosy?” territory. And if it’s difficult for me, I can’t imagine how my sister feels. Actually, I can imagine, but my heart starts pounding and my throat starts closing and I have to remind myself that Caleb will be home at the end of the day, ready to check and see if I’ve remembered to vacuum the ceiling or something like that.
Yay for husbands.
I know that hate is wrong. I know forgiveness is right. I know that no person is better than another person, and everybody sins, and no sin is worse than another, but the struggle to remain cool about the whole thing is almost too much for me.
Fortunately God is bigger than my piddly faith, and God is bigger than any problem anyone could have. He’s very much aware of and in charge of this particular situation. Even if I have no idea where He’s going with this, I have no doubt that God will use this time in her life for something. Please continue to pray for sweet Katie and her little baby–that they will be healthy and taken care of, and that she will look to her faith, family, and friends to help get her through.