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!
Really?
The
whole world is going to hell in a hand basket and I am praying for a
fun day for me???!!
Dare
I?
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
3.
wrinkles
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,
Riverwatch
