Do You Like Your Life Ruthann?

It's a little past seven in the evening and, I'm sitting here on the patio beside our cement pond eating leftovers for dinner. The rest of the family won't be home for several hours. The day has finally cooled down enough to be able to enjoy being outside. Beside me is a pool that has an eerie yellow-green tint to it thanks to the mustard algae we've been battling all summer. Earlier today I brushed down the sides of the pool to try to get the cleaning process started again. I'm surrounded by a wooden fence that's rotten and falling down in many places. A big portion of it is now replaced with staked up chicken wire. There's mismatched patio furniture all around me - many of the pieces held together, no doubt, by rust. Assorted hand-me-downs: play sets, swings and slides, that I vowed would never clutter up my yard, abound.
And, I look out over our garden and yard to the driveway where more mature weeds than I could possibly pull in the next three months are waiting for the nourishment of tonight's rain.

  

I love fresh flowers -
I apparently don't mind
dead flowers either!

East of our property I see my neighbor walking from her house to the back barn on their property. She's probably going out to feed the cows or the horses or the pigs. Maybe she's going to clean out the stalls or check to see what feed needs to be ordered tomorrow morning or to make sure there's plenty of fresh water for the night. She's probably already prepared dinner for her family and will go in to help her youngest child with homework soon. I know, like most days, this one has been a long, hard day for her.


As those thoughts race across my mind I speak out… to myself & the cicadas and crickets chirping in the trees…

  

A rusted out grill
that's supposed to be fixed,
a trash can full of weeds,
hand-me-down furniture,
shall I go on :)

"Do you like your life Ruthann?"


My life today and the one I dreamed of as a child (you know I was going to be a princess living in the Biltmore Estate mansion) are worlds apart. Dreams as a child - perhaps childish dreams - have come and gone. Choices I've made have affected my life. Choices others have made have affected my life. Things aren't quite as I'd thought they'd be.

It's close to 8pm now. I glance up to see my neighbor walking toward the house but, stopping in the horse barn first. The horses are making their way from the west pasture around back to get to their stalls. It must be supper time for them. Did my neighbor choose this life - the one she is living tonight?

My life isn't horrible but, it's certainly not perfect. There are parts & pieces of my story that I've hated, that were painful, that seemed cruel or unnecessary. There were consequences experienced from poor choices I made and consequences experienced due to choices made by those around me. My priorities have changed through the years too. I won't go into any of that today. But, everything that's happened to me... the good & the bad... has made me who I am. More than that though, how I responded to everything that's happened to me made me who I am. It took some time, but I've decided to find positive things in even the worst of situations. It wasn't easy to do that at times. It won't be easy to continue to do that. 

When you're seasick, you look toward the horizon - something immovable. And, in the turmoil of my life (whether a mountain or a mole hill), I'm committed to fix my eyes on something solid & immovable. I'll look hard, if I have to, for something good and rejoice in that good. I'll learn from the bad times & situations and people around me. I'll let go of certain dreams. And, I will dream some new dreams.

I don't live a charmed life. But, I live a blessed life.

I look over & no longer see any movement or hear sounds coming from the barns. Perhaps my neighbor has made it inside her house for the night. No doubt there are a few things for her to do before laying her head on the pillow. 

And, in that moment, I answer my question about my friend. Yes, I think she likes her life - just like me.

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