I had every intention of picking up the story today where I left it last week.  But, then I found myself procrastinating like nobody’s business.  In all the things ‘I’ve done’ today, I haven’t really accomplished anything.  I unloaded the dishwasher, and halfway loaded the dirty dishes from breakfast and lunch.  I stripped my bed and washed the sheets, but have yet to do anything to put it back together.  I’ve finished all the clothes laundry, and they sit neatly folded and stacked into piles, separating each individual’s winter wardrobe that is screaming to be put away for good, because, you know, we all want the sun to shine and the heat from the sun to stick around for more than ten minutes a day.

So, alas, all my efforts to clean the house and get things in order for the week have been abandoned.  The floor still needs to be swept, the counters and tables need to be wiped, the beds need to be made, my pillowcases (one of life’s little luxuries) and clothes need to be ironed, and today’s post needs to be written.  Perhaps, I will get my act together later this afternoon.  And, maybe not.  Maybe, I will continue to wallow in my filth, waiting to escape to coffee with a friend or off to the flower market to be inspired.  (Read an older post titled, When My House is Dirty, it’s Not what you Think)

Either way, the next phase of my story, A Tale of Two Blogs, must wait for another day to make it’s entrance.  I fear that if I wait to long, it will be a long time before I can have ‘closure’ on this story.  But, more important, I fear that if I rush the story, I may miss a lesson in it all.  My spirit of creativity is holding me back from continuing.  It’s telling me, as gently as possible, that something is missing.  It’s like there is an adventure waiting to happen that will open my eyes and broaden my perspective for the next part of the story.  It’s also telling me that the first seven chapters have left my spirit overwhelmed, breaking for the girl in the story, that needs a giant hug and maybe a shot of vodka.

The emotional journey to writing my story is quite a rollercoaster.  The memories have left such a mark on my mind, that it’s easy to place myself in the scenarios of the past and feel the emotions and thoughts as if I am living through it the day it’s happening.  It’s like being in two places at the same time, or on a weird Back to the Future trip where I wish I could tell myself a few things, but instead, I just stand there staring at myself (rather, my story) knowing how it’s all going to play out.  Which, in this case, makes taking the bold step to move through the next part of the story so hard.  While you are anticipating what I may have to write next, what could I possibly have experienced after all that nonsense, I already know.

And, I know that the hurt and pain is far from over, as the story has simply conveyed only one event of the last decade.  The greatest thing I came across today in all my procrastination efforts, was the quote written on a simple, frayed piece of paper next to my bed – “those who suffer much, have the most to give.”  May the end result be a reminder of what I have to give – to you, myself, my family and my God.  Amen.

Continue to Chapter 8 here.


Until tomorrow –

Simply live,



New to the story?  Start reading here.



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