Book Review: The Lace Makers of Glenmara

Have you ever felt like escaping from your life for awhile? Jumping in a car, and just driving somewhere far away? Away from problems or the negative things that weigh you down?

I know that I have. And, I think many women feel that way during times of stress or hardship. I think that’s one reason I was hooked instantly by The Lacemakers of Glenmara, by Heather Barbieri, a book I’m reviewing for MotherTalk. This story follows Kate Robinson, a struggling fashion designer, as she travels to Ireland to forget a troubled past and reinvent herself.

Aside from the lovely landscape, author Barbieri stitches together an amazing and interesting tale about searching, sewing, and the strength in womens’ friendships. I was instantly drawn to the various characters and lost myself in their world quite effortlessly, as if I’d stumbled upon the quaint Irish town myself.

The Lace Makers of Glenmara is a great summer escape without the cost of airfare. While it is not completely light and fun in its subject matter, it is a fabulous jaunt to Ireland and a glimpse into the lives of the people who live in Glenmara, as well as the main character’s life coming back together after it has unraveled.

The story reminds me of why our friendships as women are very important and how true frienships can withstand whatever life throws at them. It is also a story of survival in the face of great loss and finding oneself again–of realizing you are stronger than you think you are.

This book was reviewed for MotherTalk. I received a copy of the book and a small giftcard in exchange for this review.

Dear Jillian (Updated)

I think we both knew this letter would be coming. I did not keep up with your workouts. Two days under my belt, my husband left out of state for work. Between VBS and the lovely dramas there (among the parents, not the kids, isn’t that always the case?) and keeping up with sports practices and kid entertainment, your DVD just got forgotten the first day or so.

The second day, I couldn’t muster the energy for you, Ms. Michaels. And, here I am on day 3 of no workout, but I do intend to do something tonight. Please don’t yell at me, Jill. I’m too tired to handle that.

Jillian, I would love to know how you balance it all and stay fit. Oh, wait. I know. You don’t have kids yet and are not married, so you can live and breath gym sweat. I have one thing to say to that.

Come on, Jill, let’s get real.

Real moms squeeze in their workouts during the school year after preschool drop off, but before any afternoon appointments or work. And full-time working moms? Well, if they squeeze it in at all, it’s at the crack of dawn or late at night. And, quite frankly, those ladies who do that have my complete respect. Come summertime, and real moms really have to grab a workout when they can. Yes, we could get up at dawn every day to workout, and maybe we should, but sometimes we just choose to sleep later with the kids, or get up and get those house chores done before they start their day.

Life doesn’t make time for us to workout. We have to find and make that time. And, some weeks, we just don’t do it. Period. I used to beat myself up about that, but with age comes wisdom and I understand now that the important thing is to just get BACK on that horse again, and never give up. It is a waste of time to be upset over things in the past. Maybe one day I’ll find my life’s best balance, but for now I’m just doing good to get by each day.

So, Jill, don’t give up on me. I plan to do a workout tonight and possibly a spin class in the morning. I took my measurements so I can see just how much you can do for me this summer. I know if I was really training in person with you, this might be one of those times when you’d scream and tell me to figure out why I need to change. But, for now, I’ll take your pleasant voice on my DVD when I can make the time and know that summer is about having fun with the kids and no stress.

The years I have with my kids will fly by quickly, Jillian. And, sorry…that’s more important than always doing a workout DVD.

___

Updated: OK, Jill. I’m back on it. Did your DVD Fri night and went to the early cycle class at the gym Sat morning. Will do your DVD again Sun night and hit the gym hard next week. 2 weeks until my vacation/beach trip, so I have ample motivation to keep at it!

Fit Cat: Attempting a “30 Day Shred” (Day 1)

After hearing about Jillian Michael’s 30 Day Shred from tons of people, I decided to take the leap and order it. The DVD arrived just in time for a bad week. I’m teaching at VBS next week during my normal workout time.

Given we have practices and other commitments in the afternoon, fitting in an hour at the gym most days will be difficult. So, Michael’s 20 minute workouts should help. Even though Jill is my favorite trainer on The Biggest Loser, I was skeptical about a DVD workout being able to match my classes or workouts at the gym.

Time will tell on this. I can tell you after working out with two different trainers for a good length of time, her moves are classic ones and her mixing of cardio and weights is a combination that I have been given and has worked for me in the past. 20 minutes does not sound like a lot, but her intensity level is very high.

I started off using the only handweights I could find, which were 8 pound ones. I normally use 5-10 pound weights in my body pump class at the gym, so I didn’t think this would be difficult. But, it was. In fact, I found myself dropping one weight and using just an 8 by itself several times.

I did break a sweat. And, I normally hate jumping jacks on the gym floor because my flat arches just die during those. But, doing it on the carpet seems to be fine and I was able to keep up.

Today, I started with level 1. However, because I’ve just come off a training program and I’m still working out fairly regularly, I am going to try Level 2 tomorrow…even if I am super sore.

I’ll report back in after a week and let you know my progress along the way! Wish me luck–I would really like to lose 8-10 pounds over the course of this DVD and before I hit the beaches of Destin, Fla for my family reunion in July!

5 Ways I’ll Avoid Writing an Article on a Saturday Night…

Let’s not even delve into why I’m trying to work on a Saturday night, m’kay? I’ll just say that procrastination is an art form that I’ve honed and perfected over the years. 

Now, let’s see how I can delay writing that article, whose subject matter bores the heck out of me but for some reason I agreed to write anyway, even longer…

1. Play stupid Facebook Farkle, your latest obsession, 114 times. Decide Farkle knows you’re avoiding work and is conspiring against you. F-ing Farkle…

2. Obsessively check friends statuses on Facebook, which have not been updated or changed at all because, duh, people besides you HAVE a life on Saturday night.

3. Visit that gossipy site that starts with a “P” and ends with a “Z” and makes you feel as embarrassed as you feel when someone finds out you still watch Days of Our Lives. (oops…let that slip…blush)

4. Stare at the flip flop tan lines on your feet and ponder how you can apply sunscreen to tan just that strap area to match the rest of the foot.

5. Write a blog post. Remember blogging? Hey, what’s that? Oh yeah, it’s the thing you used to love that now you only do on such a rare occasion that you can have what you think is a great post like the last one before this one and no one comments anymore.

(fade to Barry Manilow)

You don’t sing me love songs…

You don’t bring me flowers…

You don’t leave me comments, anymore…

OK, OK. I’m going to write the damn article now…

Damn those genes…

I type this with the handicap of one less finger this evening. Why, you may ask? Finger jam. How, you may ask? It’s a long story.

Actually, it really is not, but that sounds better than the truth. The truth is, I am a walking magnet for minor injuries. A bonafide living and breathing klutz.

And what’s worse than living your whole life as a klutz–a life filled with minor and embarassing mishaps and silly injuries? Why, it’s knowing that you’ve passed this gene on to at least one of your children. That’s right, I’ve a klutzy spawn.

Before we explain a little further, let’s examine the definition of klutz, shall we?

A klutz is a person who is clumsy, foolish, inept, or accident-prone. The term is perhaps derived from the Yiddish קלאָץ klots (’wooden beam’), cognate with the German Klotz, meaning a “block” or “lump”. The British slang, pillock and the Australian slang, galah are used with similar meaning, particularly in terms of being foolish and inept.

Great. So, to the Germans, I’m not only a “lump”  but a “block?” And, in the U.K., I’m downright stupid?

You know what is really stupid? The fact that I’ve known I’ve had this problem my whole life. I made it through advance courses in English and Journalism in college, and worked as a TV news producer, a technical writer, a magazine editor and writer, and it took me looking up the definition of KLUTZ to figure out that it was not spelled with a “C.” Dang, maybe those Brits are bloody right…

So, many a day, my neighbors try to hide their amusement at the sight of my son, running to catch a ball, whack a hockey puck, oh and sometimes just walk a straight line. I love my kid and think he’s the cat’s meow. But, I will admit right here and now, that he does a darn good imitation of Seinfeld’s beloved Kramer and he’s mastered the art of the trip and roll. It’s actually quite amazing to watch him in action. One neighbor recently asked me if he was the class clown, obviously thinking he does all of these acrobatics on purpose.

Today, I attempted to help the kid with one of my favorite pastimes, basketball. Love that game. Wish I could have played many more years of it, actually. As I was trying to show him how to give a decent hard pass and catch one, my fingernail caught the ball and I found myself with a nice index finger jam.

I’m pretty good at shaking these things off and have gotten to where I can even hold in the profanities, given that things like this happen almost weekly to me. I grabbed an ice cooler pack and held it to my finger for awhile, and we went back to work. But, my son wasn’t really getting the head fake jumpshot move I was trying to teach him. So, I grabbed the ball to demonstrate.

I did an excellent head fake.

It was so good that the frozen ice pack, which I hadn’t bothered to set down prior, went flying upward and slammed right into my jaw. Yeah, I thought…that’s going leave a mark.

“Maybe your Dad should be the one to help you?” I shrugged and watched as my son looked on trying to hold back his amusement.

Later, just before dinner, I heard a whack and ran to find my boy writhing in pain on the entry way floor. I didn’t even need to ask what had happened. Toe stub to the corner floor molding. Ahh…yes, that’s one of my go-to moves.

As I tried to comfort him, I thought to myself, why on earth could my son not pick up another one of my less-than-flattering traits? Any other one really would be fine. “

Chronic Ice Cruncher while Watching Nightly TV?”  Take that one, boy.

“Daily Loser of Keys and Sunglasses?” It’s all yours, my lad.

I’d even wish for him the “Leaver of Shoes Out Everywhere” one and feel he could still make his successful mark in this world.

But, the clumsy gene? Couldn’t it have died off with yours truly? Haven’t I really worked that one to death already? The poor “lumpy” bloke, he doesn’t stand a chance, does he?

The last train to Cougarville…

I have to admit several embarassing things today. First, I’ve been sucked into the Twilight phenomenon and I know I’m entirely too old to be on board.

I read the first book, determined to hate it completely. But, actually, the whole vampire, werewolf, supernatural teen love story of it all reeled me in. At least it was different, I told myself as I poured page after page wondering what would be come of Edward and Bella. Immature, I know…sigh…

By the time I was halfway through the second book, I knew I was hooked. This was the book that everyone tells me is the worst of all the series and I couldn’t put it down.

I watched the Twilight movie at that point, amid my sister’s constant ravings about Robert Pattison and how perfect a male specimen he is to the world. And, I didn’t get it. You mean this pale guy who needs an good eyebrow pluck?

In fact, the whole movie fell a little flat with me. Of course, my brother-in-law came in halfway through and I sat, face-flushed and embarassed while I watched pretending not to want to watch it. So, that MIGHT have put a damper on it.

As I rounded out the second book, I felt something peculiar happening. I found myself leaving “Camp Edward” completely for “Camp Jacob.” I know, I know you’re thinking, “please, vampires are totally sexier than werewolves,” but Edward was annoying me with his aloofness and absence, where Jake never gave up on Bella and he had the whole interesting Native American thing going for him too. By the end of the book, I was a big fan of Jake.

Then, the other day, I saw the trailer for the second series film, New Moon. Here you go, I’ll share it here. (I know all you closet Twilight readers are going to watch it right now…don’t try to hide it.)

And, oh MY, did that werewolf catch my attention! I immediately (and embarassingly) went online to find out more about the super hot actor who played him. IMDB.com did not let me down. And, as I scrolled down wondering why I recognized his name, I saw his year of birth and realized…(uber blush)…he’s only 17. A baby. He looked soooo young in his IMDB photo too. Really TOO young.

Good Lord, I’m 38! What is wrong with me, I thought? That’s almost perverse. It makes me feel very “cougar” like, a term that I’ve grown to hate with a passion. Plus, I have a nephew that is that age! GROSS! (I’m not even including a picture of said actor here because all I could find looked like something that might appear in Teen Beat and I’m still traumatized by myself.)

Then, I scrolled through his past work and it slapped me right in the face.

This actor is the FREAKING KID that played Sharkboy in Sharkboy and LavaGirl. I was lusting after Sharkboy? Are you KIDDING ME? I might as well be drooling over damn Harry Potter at this point. Ew! Ew! Ewwww!

So, in an effort to erase my indisgressions, I vow to faithfully look at the following photos every day. (Scroll over them for the names.)

Each of these hunks is my age or older and entirely appropriate for me to drool over. More importantly, they’ll keep me off that last train to Cougarville…because my friends, I’ll admit it, I came dangerously close to going for a ride.

Filled with what-notty goodness…

I have nothing today, but in my effort to post more on my blog, I’ll smatter this post with some bullets of what-notty goodness. Random thoughts from my scattered mind…

• Why do triathlon bikes have to cost so dang much? When you add that to the training costs and other equipment, my “before I’m 40″ goal is looking quite costly.
• Know what else is costly? A backyard swimming pool! You might THINK with the economy in the toilet, pool builders would cut a girl some slack to get her business. But, you would be thinking wrong…
• The latter process of getting bids and designs and deciding on a pool builder should be put right up there with say, corporal punishment or a slow torture.
• Why is it that the last few weeks of school have to fly by, when the whole year has seemed to drag, and drag, and drag?
• Why do I have no motivation post workout to go and get a shower and get to the grocery store already?
• Why do some family members seem to be “users” of other family members and seem to have no guilty conscious about doing this to loving family? Why can’t you be one of the “users” instead of always the “used” in that scenario?
• Why is the same episode of Sex and the City (the one with bad sex with Burger) on every time I flip through?
• Why does celeb chef and all around cutie patootie, Tyler Florence, talk so damn fast and how did he ever get a TV gig doing that?
• Why can’t I stop asking questions in this blog post?

I guess that’s a good enough place to stop for now. More substantial blogging to come…hopefully…

10 Things I “Heart” about Austin, Texas

Here you go–I’m not being paid for this people, but here’s my favorite things about Austin in a nutshell. If you live there, hopefully you’ll enjoy this and if you don’t you might get a sense of why I think of it as my home away from home!

1. The Landscape–With patches of hills and trees scattered in the middle of even busy shopping areas, this does NOT look like a Texas city. Drive up Hwy 2222 for some GREAT views!

2. The Attitude–Now, keep in mind that I do not consider myself liberal or a hippie, but I do love the artsy and the very accepting nature of this city.

3. The MUSIC–When you’re an Austinite, live music becomes something you take for granted. Until you move, that is. Only then will you realize that it is unusual to have live performers in restaurants, bookstores, and other businesses, or just on the street, most every day of the week.

4. SXSW–Need I say more? If there were ever an event that was tailored to fit a city more perfectly, I’d like to see it. Not to mention, it’s a blast to attend!

5. Hippie Grungy Wait Persons with Attitudes– Last weekend, our waiter, who looked just like River Phoenix just before the OD, informed me that a salad dressing I asked about “tastes like crap” and not to get it. I recall visiting family members disturbed by our server at Kerby Lane because of the body piercings and tatoos, when I hadn’t even noticed. That’s how I knew I was an official Austinite!

6. The Freakin’ Festivals–Some are downright freaky (read: Eeyore’s Birthday), but no festival is boring. We used to love going to the Pecan Street Art Festival every year downtown. There is a festival almost every weekend during the spring and summer months.

7. The Weirdness of it All–There’s a reason you see those “Keep Austin Weird” t-shirts everywhere. While some of the weirdness is a tad too freaky for me, at least it isn’t boring and ordinary!

8. The New Yuppie Areas–OK, tried and true Austinites HATE these places and will curse me for this, but I always was a Yupster Austinite and I love The Domain and several other new trendy shopping areas on the North side of town.

9. Street People/Panhandlers - I know you’ll say, what? Especially if you read my last post, but my husband and we actually had a few favorites when we’d go downtown. Once you see some of the same guys making street art with spray paint or chalk, or watch the same dancing guy every Friday night on a corner, it starts to feel like you know them!

10. Town Lake/Lake Travis/Lake Austin/Congress Bridge Bats–These are the tourist hot spots in Austin, but they are for a reason and if you’re going, you have to see every one of them!

Austin Bound - Looking Back

Right out of college, my husband and I faced difficult times in finding a job. For some reason, in 1992, no one wanted to hire college graduates. We applied everywhere, but were leaning towards Houston or Dallas as our hopeful landing spots. Houston would be in his stomping grounds, Dallas would be closer to my family and an area in which I’d always wanted to live.

Ironically, we both got interviews and job offers in Austin instead. Austin. I knew no one there and knew nothing about it except for short visits for UIL State competitions in sports and band in high school. It was pretty enough, but we didn’t have friends are family there. Plus, we both hated U.T. with a passion. Don’t judge us–it’s a prerequisite for being a true Texas Tech Red Raider.

Still, we moved there, happy to have jobs. We could figure the rest out as we went, right?

I’ll never forget the first time I came to Austin. My husband (then fiancee) had started work and we’d found our apartment. I was bringing wedding gifts after my bridal shower and had the entire back side of my car packed with things. I pulled up downtown in 7th Street where my husband was working in a fantastic highrise. He’d already prepared me about panhandlers, but obviously not well enough.

As I’m digging through my purse for meter change, I hear someone yelling through my closed window. I look up startled and just in time to see a scary looking street person wailing at me. She proceeded to tap on my window frantically and cried, “Please, help me! Heeeeeelp me!”

Perhaps you will judge me now, for not rolling down my window and giving her some cash or change. However, I was a 22-year-old small town girl with little in the way of street smarts. Plus, I had my entire car filled with 5-piece place settings and other wedding what-not. This was all new to me and I was terrified.

I sat there frozen and trying to avoid eye contact until the woman realized she was going to not get anything out of me. She waved her hands back at me as if to say, “Ah, to hell with you,” and as quickly as her act had begun, she shuffled away a few cars down to beg from someone else. I quickly got out of my car and sprinted the other direction to my husband’s office, in a nervous sweat.

The next year or so, these incidents became quite common. My husband would come home with tales of seeing someone’s arm sticking out of a shrub by his parking spot, where they were sleeping it off. We started going out downtown with our friends to 6th street and got used to the Austin culture. We even had our favorite street performers/artists.

We lived in Austin for five years. In the course of those years, my husband switched jobs a couple times and so did I. I worked for ridiculously low pay and very long hours with what would become some of my favorite people in this world, even to this day. My company was young and fun, hosting keggers on the roof of our building every Friday for its underpaid staff and amazing Christmas parties that took over a local hotel and all it’s ballrooms every year.

We considered ourselves Conservative Republicans and convinced ourselves that we never really fit in to Austin’s liberal mindset, even though we had amazing fun at my husband’s company picnics, winning beach volleyball tournaments with friends, and hitting great happy hours and parties. On Halloween, my company’s entire staff would dress up in the most crazy costumes and we’d all go to lunch.

Even still, we left for Plano, Texas, which we would learn is the polar opposite of Austin in every way. Some of my more devout Austinite friends told us we were crazy and even acted like we were traitors, leaving for a cookie cutter subdivision where mailboxes were filled with free magazines on the best local plastic surgeons. But, we felt we were moving to where we would feel more at home.

Our time in Plano would be much shorter, only three-and-half years. And, while I did not hate it while we lived there, I found myself making bi-yearly trips back to see my Austin friends. I did not want to admit it, especially to my hubby who seemed to like Dallas, but I missed A-town. I missed it a lot.

Since that time, we’ve now lived outside of Houston for almost a decade. Houston has stuck with us and it’s a good fit, I think. And, until my daughter was born a few years ago, I still made my bi-yearly treks to Austin. It’s hard to describe, but every time I pull into that town, I relax. And, I think living there when I did also had a lasting impression on me. I still think I’m fiscally a conservative who likes less government, but I’m definitely more of a liberal when it comes to social issues like human rights. I love live music and miss having that at most every restaurant or bar like they do in Austin.

Stay tuned tomorrow for my 10 Reasons I Will Always Love Austin, Texas…

Dreams untangled

It was one of those dreams that seems so real that you find yourself wanting to wake up in the middle of it, just to prove that none of it ever really happened. And, then when you do finally wake, you have the fleeting wish to go back to it, just so you can somehow end it the right way or undo parts of the story that still nag at you.

In the dream, my 9-year-old son and I are on a road trip together when something goes terribly wrong. My son is put in a juvenile detention or perhaps foster care facility, unjustly, for something they believe either he or I has done. The entire beginning of the dream has me fighting to see him, fighting to have him released. Days and days go by of me doing this in what seems like a hopeless situation. My son is in some sort of camp with kids that I know nothing about. Kids who act in a way that frightens me, and definitely frightened him when he was sent there. It’s as if a part of my heart has been ripped from my chest and I’m desperately trying to find it to put it back in place again so that I can be whole. I just feel so terrified for my boy.

After long days of trying to get my son back from the misunderstanding, suddenly the warden has a change of heart and tells me that I can take him home. Tears running down my face, I thank her with a gratefulness I have not felt towards an individual in some time. I rush to get my son so that we can finally go home to our family.

As I go to meet him, I notice he’s playing happily with the other kids and getting along. That does not surprise me, I think to myself, because he can get along with pretty much anyone. I can’t wait to get his attention and give him the biggest mom hug that I can, having been separated in such a way for so long.

Only, he doesn’t seem that eager to rush to me, I think, as he finally catches my eye. A slight grin on his face, he nods and goes back to playing with his friends. So, I go to meet him instead. Once I get his attention and pull him to the side to talk, I tell him the wonderful news that we can go home. He is free and I’m so sorry that it has taken so long. I tell him I love him so much.

He shakes his head at me. He doesn’t want to go, he says. He likes it here. He and his friends are about to get McDonald’s for dinner again and he’s free to just play. I learn that any work that’s expected of him in the few hours of “school” time has been at a kindergarten level. Most of the children there are from broken homes where they have been neglected or have missed long periods of school. This work is easy and he likes it here better than home where he has to work so hard.

I feel what’s left of my heart crumble some more. He doesn’t want to come home to us? He likes it better here with these misfits doing nothing? What about all the years of soccer, flag football, scouts and fun things we paid and put time into? What about all the time we spent at our kitchen table doing science projects for school? Our family bike rides and game nights? What about his Dad and Sister?  If he doesn’t miss me, doesn’t he miss them? What about his neighborhood friends who have been asking and asking for him since he’s been gone?

I back away stunned, feeling sucker-punched in the worst possible way. The warden is looking on and smiles a knowing smile as if she knew this is what would happen all along–she had seen this before. The next morning, I go back and try again. No luck. He is not interested. He has chosen this over us. It is no wonder, I think to myself. At our house we have responsibilities. He has allergy shots and tests at school. He has to share with his sister and do things he doesn’t want to because someone else in the family has to. But, what about LOVE, I think? Doesn’t he love us like we love him? Doesn’t he miss “us” at all?

After a meeting with the warden, I am told that by law they cannot release my son if he does not want to go. He will need to spend his six months there, unless he changes his mind. Six months? I can’t imagine leaving him with these kids for six months! What would become of him? She escorts me away and tells me to call and write and she will let me know if he changes his mind at any point. Yeah, right, I think.

As I’m walking away through my teary eyes I catch sight of him playing there and I realize that he feels accepted here and that maybe he does not in our home. And, suddenly all my failures as a parent rush to the surface. What could I have done differently? Doesn’t he know how much we love him?

In the dream, the story flashes forward six months later and I’ve brought home my son finally. My body has withered away from the months of calling, visiting, and begging him to come home, only to be continually rejected. The worry has eaten away at me. Ironically, I’m finally the thin I have always wanted to be. Only, it doesn’t look right. I look old and sickly, not fabulous and svelte. My son begrudgingly comes home. I tip-toe around him, afraid to give him many chores and just so thankful to have him back.

But, when I look in his eyes, I don’t see him. He has been lost and what has returned is a different boy. Slightly overweight now from all the fast food given to him and overall inactivity, he is edgy and angry. He doesn’t play with his old friends at all. He is a teenager before his time and I’m left trying to catch glimpses of my beautiful and sensitive son who left me just months before. In a heated disagreement with his Dad, my son flips out a pocket knife and glaring waves it at my husband and the two of us exchange fearful looks.

Where is the boy who we raised? Only months have changed him entirely. Gone is the creative and fun ham who loved to put the radio on and make up silly dances to make us laugh. There is no longer the boy who drew fantastic pictures, loved to make funny presentations on his computer and could play for hours with his little sister even when she was being difficult. He has been replaced by a sullen boy who likes to go to his room alone, who even dresses different and eats differently. I’ve lost him, I think. After all of this, I have lost him…

—

When I awake, I wonder if this is what having a teenager is like. So suddenly they change and you’re left to figure out how to talk to them, to connect with this child who seems nothing like the one you’ve raised from infancy?

I am a believer that dreams can often be our subconscious mind trying to tell us something. And, sometimes, I think maybe it is even God’s way of telling us something.

There are things in my life that are shifting right now. I do not know how to stop things from the path they are on. And, I do not know if I’m supposed to walk the new path that is before me or fight to get back on the old one. And, if I do fight to get it back, would it be the same as it was before? Or is it already forever changed to me?

Once a lovely trail with flowers and rocks and the occasional pothole or large dip, would I arrive back to find the path overgrown with thorns and weeds and very difficult to navigate? Would the path be completely unfamiliar to me now?

Most of all, I’d like to know when I will untagle all this mess and know where God wants me to be…