yesterday i spent six hours at the pool with gwen, a nine year old girl who i've been nannying this summer. six hours. in case you aren't getting my point, six hours is a disgustingly long time to be in a chlorinated body of water. perhaps this is just my opinion, but i sat in the sun reading a great novel; therefore, the extent of my complaining is complete. after dropping gwen off at home and talking with her mother for a few quick moments, i drove home listening to music at deafening volume levels. while at the pool, i got yet another phone call drenched with disappointment and failure. i let someone down again; i allowed my mistakes to literally be the expense of someone who has only given me the entire universe.
sometimes when you deliberately don't change something about yourself that needs to be dealt with and buried forever, you are no longer the only one who has to sustain the burden of consequence. if that's not fuel for a new beginning, i'm not sure what is.
actually, every beginning is new. i'm not sure why that phrase even exists.
when i got home yesterday evening, i had this pressing urgency to tackle the much needed task of reorganizing everything in storage down stairs. so, i pulled out EVERYTHING. i opened each bin and container, condensing items to smaller boxes, sorting through old things and selecting stuff that might be put to better use in a homeless shelter or donation center. i have so much stuff. stuff that is purely just...stuff. most everything is attached to a memory, though. so as i sifted through all of my old, dirty junk, my anger towards my previous/current failure began to fade. and my pandora station kept playing all of the right songs.
i was one of those little girls who played with hotwheels and barbies simultaneously. oh wait. i'm the only one to ever do that? figures. i seriously loved hotwheels. i found my case of cars last night, sitting on one of the tallest shelves downstairs. not a day went by when i did not have that container completely empty, cars scattered everywhere, my imagination designing stories about destinations and journeys of all of these vehicles. i think that my love for hotwheels as a kid is partly responsible for my love for driving now that i'm an adult. for about one day i was even convinced that i should be a truck driver. i like being on a road, with or without a destination, because i'm moving towards something and away from something else. motion is super cool. at the same time, i can be driving 70 miles per hour and feel like the world is completely still. does that ever cross your mind? it makes no sense but is completely true at the same time.
roads are always available. they're always there to take us wherever we feel like going. roads are dangerous and unpredictable, but that's what makes them worth driving on. any road is worth it as long as you have a good soundtrack.
my failure is the best motivation i could have to be able to drive into my dreams.
love mercy, live justly, walk humbly...take me there.
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