It's A Life

I'm hot and tired and have no energy. The garden is lush, the sun is shining, and we went sailing this week. The kitchen is a mess, I have too much to iron and clean and no energy to do it. We ate out last night and Sam made me laugh, and Steve has been happily home with me all week. I have two friends whom I rarely see and often miss, but they live across the Atlantic. I have two good friends who live on this peninsula, a short walk away.

Am I happy or sad? Both, I suppose. I love my back yard, uneven lawn surface notwithstanding. I love my front yard with it myriad of flowers and lush foliage, even though the weeds outnumber the actual grass. It's all lush, full of color, and growing.

Real life is the good with the bad. I remember that I began to work at age 18, and ran through life doing the same until age 58. Now, I write, spend time with family, read, lie in my hammock, garden, occasionally cook, and just last night we all laughed so hard our sides hurt. For over 20 minutes! Why do I somehow think I'm not doing anything? What about America makes me feel like a slug in that I'm not "employed?"

I'm still creative, producing, caring for family, loving God and being alive. Isn't that enough? Isn't that what God has me here to do? I demand that the lie we're all fed, the lie that we have to produce something of value for others, that we have to earn income, is the reason why we live. I'm alive because I have life, because I bring God pleasure, because I bring my family pleasure. Isn't that enough?