“Comedy is Simply a Funny Way of Being Serious”

“Comedy is Simply a Funny Way of Being Serious” Peter Ustinov

WARNING… what you are about to read is the “real” deal… it’s not filled with humorous quips … it’s a little different… this is me… this is me right now.

There are times in life when I feel as though I’m running on full speed… lighter than air shoes on my feet… wings on my shoulders.

There are other times when I feel as though I’m stopped in the mud…  cement blocks on my ankles… bricks on my back.

I fall down in the dirt and get a little roughed up.There is a good reason why something like this might happen.

You see, this recent time of skinning knees was to figure out why…. why, I question… often… QUESTIONS, QUESTIONS, worry, QUESTIONS, doubt, QUESTIONS, fear, QUESTIONS… like this…

QUESTION: What happens if I have to lose control? What happens if this doesn’t get done? Who will I upset?

QUESTION: What happens if I get sick and don’t know what it is? What if it’s serious and I don’t catch it in time? What if it means death?

QUESTION: What happens if the year’s plan changes? How do I know if I’m making the right choices? What if I don’t do this correctly?

This week… I feel like I’m getting some answers….


ANSWER: Let go. He’s got it. He loves you unconditionally.

ANSWER: You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.

ANSWER: He makes the plans. Listen and be still. He’s still here.

I’m a hypochondriac. I obsess about the unknowns. Why? Because I’ve been damaged by the unknowns. If you’ve ever had to rely on the weakness of others and the unknowns have come to knock you down with a hard blow or two, you understand what this means. I’ve spent more time on WebMD than in a classroom for a BA.

Because of fear and worry, I’ve spent a lot of my time collecting all of the pieces of “stuff” that I think I will need to survive or that I can carry with me in order to avoid surprises or hurts or unexpected pains.

What I’ve got is a pocket. A dirty pebble, lint filled, bit o’ leaves, mushed bugs, snack cracker crumble pocket of stuff that needs to be emptied. Washed out. Cleaned. You know? A place that’s in me and filled with… JUNK!?

God and I are celebrating our 15th anniversary (this is when I broke down and decided to be with Him)… we’ve had a lot to learn about one another. Do I trust Him? Sometimes… when it’s easy. I mean, really… do I really TRUST? No… or I wouldn’t be so worried and find it necessary to carry a load with me at all times (just in case).

I realized this just recently when I ran real fast down a hill, tripped on myself and was left with skinned knees, a bruised elbow and a dirty little pebble that rolled out from my pocket… to sit right in front of me.


Wow, it’s tough. No, really… c’mon on. Love that you can’t see coming at you with puckered lips? Love that doesn’t wrap two solid manly arms around you for a tight squeeze? Love that doesn’t slide a ring on your finger in front of your friends and family?

Don’t be fooled. It’s real. It’s real because I need to know that out there… or right here, He is here. Something else besides me.

How do I know? Gosh… I really have no idea… I guess it all comes from the looks back. When I look back, I see it… it’s like a magic ink trick with a lemon and some sunlight… I can’t see it right away… but when the light hits it… it’s clear as day… just takes a while to show up. There’s been some real love there.

What I am I trying to say here? I forgot. No, I didn’t… I am saying that I’m FINALLY tired of figuring it out. QUESTIONS. I don’t need to know what’s going to happen. Today? Tomorrow? This Month?  By the end of the year?! Heck, I would’ve never imagined the things that have taken place over the past 15!

I’m starting to realize (for really real kinda realize) that if it’s gonna happen… it’s gonna happen… why am I worried about it? Why all the questions? It’s time to let go. To TRUST. With full abandonment. I won’t throw the cliche “Let go and Let God” at you… although it’s fitting.


If you’re reading this and you don’t believe in God…that’s okay.

If you’re reading this and you are like, “Um, she’s a real weirdo”… that’s okay too. I AM weird. You have no idea… here… look…

crazy bride 2 DSC_0459 wonder womancreepy girl  IMG_2800

(yes, I can become a bride, a superhero and lift an 80 year old woman with no problem. BOOM.)

I do ask a lot of questions. Probably, maybe always will… I’m just hoping they get a bit simpler… “Did you wash your hands? Can you pass the salt?… ”

Oh… here’s one for YOU…

“Have you checked your pockets?”

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