A Different Kind of Prayer
I have always been serious minded and consequently I had to field my former husband's accusation that I am "heavy weather".
What can I say?
Am I supposed to choke up over what the irresponsible say about me?! I think not!
Some doc once told me....in the work arena....that I think too much, but I was quick witted back then and reminded him he didn't think enough, "so it all evens out".
My kids have all told me multiple times (as though I don't get it!) that they get it on the first sentence and do not need a whole paragraph. That shuts me up for a whole day, or maybe an hour.
I've always been a sitting duck for extra large assignments because "if you want something done, ask a busy person".
As you can see, I'm not a party girl. Never was.
But lately, since the sawdust has gotten soggy....or dry, I don't know which....I've begun praying a different kind of prayer on my behalf.
"Please bless me with a fun day today."
The first such prayer was in desperation. And I had trepidation. Praying for fun? That doesn't sound humble. Naive and childlike, maybe. But, come on!
The whole world is going to hell in a hand basket and I am praying for a fun day for me???!!
Should I pray to be more mindful, more concerned, more focused on the trials and tribulations of the world??
I need help having fun! I don’t need help having more panic attacks.
I justify my prayer for a fun day for me this way:
If I am having a fun day, that means there is no war within the sphere of my influence.
If I am having a fun day, there is no suffering within the sphere of my influence.
If I am having a fun day, my family, my friends and I have escaped death another day.
If I am having a fun day, my relationships are not gyrating in a whirlwind.
If I am having a fun day, there is no...well there might be poverty, but no grinding poverty.
If I am having a fun day, diseases have been held at bay for my family, my friends and me.
If I am having a fun day, I have far more energy to spontaneously impart to strangers needing care.
If I am having a fun day, there are no floods or fires or earthquakes or asteroid collisions in my neighborhood.
Winds make me happy (never having experienced a hurricane nor the twister funnel), so..... there might be winds on a fun day.
My little prayer is short, but it sure wraps up a lot of heretofore lengthy requests.
My little prayer turns out to be the most unselfish of prayers.
Do you wonder how am I doing?
Well, each prayer is followed by the relaxing of my hunched up shoulders.
I find I have stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Let it take me by surprise! What the heck. Quick surprises may not be as bad as long anticipations.
And I have had some surprising fun pop into my field of vision.
Glad I am I prayed for fun.
Still and all, I am thinking of the blondie bottle.
They say blondes have more fun, and hey, one of the nice things about aging is you might have snow white hair which you can color whatever color you desire.
I wonder about going red.
But it's fun I want, not comments.
So......I am thinking about going blonde.
It is always appropriate to do your part in helping get your prayers answered.
"Oh, but white hair is SO BEAUTIFUL!!"
Right you are.
But the three things that show our age most are, in order of impact:
1. gray or white hair
2. extra weight, overweight
We are first and foremost identified by our hair.
Want to remain relevant and “seen”? Get rid of the gray. Get rid of the beautiful white.
We live in a culture that dismisses old women.
Old men don’t need a dye job. They remain relevant through thick, thin, missing, gray or white hair.
Old men become distinguished.
Not so for us gals.
We need to fool people just a little.
“Go for the dye job!” I say.
Or not. Whatever. If you think role modeling the beauty of aging is the way to go, I say you are probably thinking that because you still have a little waistline!
Good for you!
As author and screenwriter Nora Ephron once quipped:
“There’s a reason why 40, 50 and 60 don’t look the way they used to, and it’s not because of feminism, or better living through exercise.
It’s because of hair dye.
In the 1950s only 7% of American women dyed their hair;
today there are parts of Manhattan and LA where there are no grey-haired women at all.”
Me? I'm for the dye job.
My family starts going gray in our teenage/young adult years.
I have been dying my hair for years and years and years and years and years.
Ok. Decades and decades.
It's easy. It's quick. It's inexpensive.
But maybe blondes do have more fun.
They certainly couldn’t have less!
"Please bless me with a fun day today."
I appreciate your visit,