Staring at the Blank Page

Staring at the Blank Page
-Brenda Graff

Here I was sitting in front of my computer unable to write a single word.  It had been nearly a month since I had written my last blog, or even worked on the magazine.  Life happened.  I got side-tracked and distracted.  It seemed every time I intended to sit down to write, something would come up, and draw me completely away from the very thing I love to do most.  Power outages, flooding, construction, phone calls, etc.  Like many folks we recently had also been hit with storm damage, requiring much to do in our home, and property.   

Our house had become equipped with a revolving door of contractors in and out from sun up to sundown, and sometimes near the midnight hour.  We had furnishings and belongings stacked from one end of the house to the next leaving only a narrow path to walk through to bathroom in which was also blocked by mattresses, and anything that wouldn’t fit upon one of the other piles of stuff. 

  

We were awaiting flooring and roofing to be replaced which delayed for approximately five days or more, and our surroundings were becoming a little claustrophobic.  The rain just wouldn’t cease, nor the leaks, putting off much needed repairs, and us getting back to our regular chaotic routine of life.  I was feeling a little miffed.  The lack of sleep, and aching bones from moving stuff had become overwhelming.  My husband had to work, so he was unable to help move items.  It was me, my 13, and 15-year-old.  I really couldn’t obtain help due to the inconsistency of scheduling and others had also suffered significant damage and were unable to assist.  I admittedly became indignant, though at the same time realizing we could have had it so much worse.  We didn’t lose lives in the flood, we didn’t lose our home.  We didn’t have to experience the terrifying moments of sinking in a vehicle or trying to grab babies to get out before drowning.  We certainly didn’t have to wait to be rescued for nearly a week with no water, electricity, or food.  I knew I really had nothing to complain about.  I was just tired…. really really tired.   

After the flooding in which 9 lives were lost, we were then hit in our little town by a tornado which caused the life of a dear elderly women.  Twelve homes damaged...and once again our roof after the floors had been replaced.  The news stayed in a constant state of ‘breaking news’.  So much tragedy continually spewing over the media.  It was disheartening.  I was seriously in danger of becoming desensitized to getting back to life as we knew it.  I hadn’t picked up my Bible in days, and honestly was having difficulty praying other then saying, "Jesus Lord come quickly"! I was done!  I didn’t know what to pray, but I was desperate for God. 

I wanted to feel something, anything but what I was feeling at that point.  “Lord, where are you?” I asked.  Despite the knowledge I have of scripture, or encouraging others through difficult times, I was unable to find strength in any of it.  I was so whooped out, couldn't encourage myself....where was my cheerleaders?  I needed to hear, "It's alright!  It's okay!  Your gonna make it any way!" But my cheerleaders were busy moving on with life, while I was stuck in enigma.  I usually write it out...journal, blog, design, use whatever the topic of life is at the moment and make a funny.  However, this time I wasn't laughing.  I couldn't concentrate on anything but the clutter and catastrophe around me.  I had writer's block! 

My soul was severely bruised.  Our family had been going through a really tough time the past year, in ways that just didn’t make sense.  When the overwhelming financial kicked us in the face with medical bills the past several months, and dealing with relational drama... I think the flooding was just the last straw for me.  But what on earth was I going to do?  Run away?  Nope, that wasn’t an option.  Scream at God?  

It wasn’t a comforting thought, though I knew He would have listened, watch me throw my fit, and still have mercy, and love me.  

I didn’t know how to react to anything except somewhat in disgust for several days, till finally my living room was flooded with tears after pure exhaustion.  In every corner of the house I was overwhelmed with where to start first in putting items up.  We are still stacked with boxes, and miscellaneous items in places that need to be cleared.    However, I cherish the ability to be able to walk and function since having a spinal injury, more than this place back in some kind of order.   

Unfortunately, I grew up in a very neat house.  You may be shaking your head asking... “Why is that bad?”  I will tell you why.  Growing up in a place that is kept up to perfection didn’t help me to grasp that things get messy.  It didn’t show me that sometimes in this life we will have to function around the messes.  I was taught to be organized, keep bed made, never allow a single pair of clothing to sit on a chair or hang on a door knob, and lord-forbid you ever leave a shoe sitting on the floor in view.  Everything was to always be put away when not in use, never leave a dish in sink, and every item in cabinets, and closets must be neatly stacked.  The walls of the home must sparkle with pristineness no finger-prints, no smudges, and certainly no scratches at any time.  

Even the garage was so clean, you could have invited the Duchess of York and dined in it.   

The carpet had to show the lines of vacuum rows all going the same direction.  I’ve found it very difficult to work in clutter of any sort.  I have an issue with walking over the pile of laundry, or finding dirty socks and shoes laying here and there.  

I most definitely lose my ability to function in my kitchen when I find dishes stacked in sink or stove not wiped off...for the umpteenth time of day. I've been known to throw away a whole sink of dishes, refusing to wash what I find left for me from the kids and hubby. I absolutely cannot stand spilled items in fridge or finding food that is furry and on its way to its funeral.  The sad thing is my family will notice it, smell it, and then stick it back in the fridge...UGH!

So you can only imagine how unsettling it was and is to live in a house that merely represents a garage sale, or dumpsite.

I have given birth to two children still living at home, that fortunately I guess didn’t inherit my OCD-ness…obviously, their father’s gene dominated as he is the grown up version of these two free-thinkers who would be happy living in a barn as long as it had a fridge, Wi-Fi, FB, PS3, and Candy Crush!  

However, despite my dilemma in dealing with dirt, and disorder…. I realize unless the cleaning fairy comes and waves her magic wand or Mr. Clean greets me with a cleaning crew…it’s going to be a while before things get straightened up.   

I knew I had to move forward in my quest to live as God expected and try to do this around the chaos. Putting my focus back on the more important things in life by returning to the only page that has been filled by His promise.  The promise that He remembers our afflictions, He writes the course that we should take in each and every situation.   

He fills our pages in life with purpose.  Page by page He brings to life the power in which He has provided for us to plow through this life in all its pain. 

 

Remembering mine affliction and my misery, the wormwood and the gall. My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me. This I recall to my mind; therefore, have I hope. It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.  The LORD is my portion, saith my soul; therefore, will I hope in him. The LORD is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him.

- Lamentations 3:19-25

There is NOTHING wrong with wanting to live in a clean house, or a desire to keeping it clean, but it shouldn't throw a person's perspective off so much they forget what is really important, like relationship, being alive, and having the incredible freedom to worship God, and serve in His kingdom.  It should never erase the pages of purpose that are far more greater then any present situation we may face.

I am reminded of one of my favorite writings by Erma Bombeck, words that should remind us that each day is a new chapter and we can choose what to write on the pages by changing our perspective.

If I Had My Life to Live Over

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the “good” living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television, and more while watching life.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn’t show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.”

There would have been more “I love you’s.” More “I’m sorry’s.”

But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute… look at it and really see it… live it… and never give it back.

Stop sweating the small stuff. Don’t worry about who doesn’t like you, who has more, or who’s doing what.

Instead, let’s cherish the relationships we have with those who DO love us.

Let’s think about what God HAS blessed us with.

And what we are doing each day to promote ourselves mentally, physically, emotionally, as well as spiritually.

Life is too short to let it pass you by.

We only have one shot at this and then it’s gone.

I hope you all have a blessed day.