Giving It to God

The text came before eight am. What? Miss is in the middle of her devotions. She hasn't been getting up as early as a few weeks ago. Daylight shrinks. Every day, she watches the minutes of daylight tick backwards. She draws little emoji frown faces in her journal, especially when it went under fifth teen hours.

Even when she worked through the summer, she felt this middle of July blah. Her memories came up yesterday on Facebook. One showed a post describing almost the same symptoms she has this year. She wrote it twelve years ago.

Miss doesn't want to do anything but write. The only exercise in this heat is swimming. She woke early another day with the humidity high and air quality moderate. A summer cold or allergies made catching her breath difficult. She felt tired and incomplete. She thought she would get so much more done this summer. July slapped her in the face with doldrums. She's doing this writing challenge, but yesterday, it fell flat. She questions, "Is this really how I should be spending my time?" Tiredness on a stormy day overtook her.

Why did that text bother her? Only two hours of nursing duty required. Not hard work, either. A doctor near by if any problems popped up. She loved the kids, and it was for athletic sports physicals. This may be the only time she sees them, as they seldom visited the nurse's office.

No, Miss couldn't say the work bothered her. She saw some of the kids off and on this summer. Some at the pool. One waiting at a restaurant for her mom to pick her up from her shift. They seemed glad to see her.

Miss pinned it down after fuming all day in the storm. Summer goes too fast, no matter if you're young or old, working or not. The first of June, her summer plans stuffed the horizon. Because this is her sixty third summer she can remember, Miss knows the speed of time. This is a first no job summer, in a while, with a paycheck and not healing a leg or being in limbo, waiting for a submarine assignment, like the summer they were newlyweds. After the Fourth, the daylight noticeably decreases. By August, she knows the hint of fall creeps in. The post yesterday, she read, reminded her, variance is only slight from year to year.

Miss isn't ready for summer to end.The text told her she had responsibilities. She didn't want to be reminded of projects not done. She resented she won't have this time in September, her favorite part of summer, with predictable weather. She loved when her daughters graduated school and she took vacation in the fall. Maybe for only ten days, but she wrote, did day trips, and shopped. Only a few more years, till semi retired again, and she could enjoy the fall days.

The process this summer led her to come to acceptance of the job this year. She loved the teenagers. She missed the culture in June. She didn't notice until July that she did miss it all. She knew this is where she is to be. It is her calling and she wasn't going to be like Jonah this year, singing the Veggie Tales song, In the Belly of a Whale.

After hashing out why this text bothered her all day, she decided she would help with the physicals. A few weeks before inservice days and commitments demand her time, she could continue the writing schedule and getting a project done. She's not overly ambitious, now.

The heat bore down on her and she wondered when she would get that mountain climbed this year.(Mt. Tammany on the Delaware Water Gap. She climbed it fifty years ago, and wants to do it again. A year goal.) She really wished it could be late August or September mid week. To go mid week, it has to be July or the first week of August. That text glared that time is running out. Beaten down by unreached goals, but she doesn't have to beaten. Writing flops. Mountain climbing flops. Organizing a writing space flops. Organizing her sock drawer flops. Flop. Flop. Flop.

Yeah, making up words because amine on her husband's phone is in the background. She didn't get to writing soon enough this morning, either. Now, it feels too negative. The thermometer races to eighty. Clouds keep the sun hidden. Watching the branches bow to the wind and wondering if the pool will be welcoming. No rain in the forecast today.

On the positive note and she has to be positive. She finished three books in the last two days. She wrote a review that needed edited, Amazon informed her. Maybe because she included a photograph of the author and her. She left it out the second time.

Miss still has three weeks. Considering what the majority of her summers were in her life, this is fantastic. The writing challenge keeps her motivated. Sequels still need written. Maybe she performs best under pressure. Actually, it's three weeks and five days. Then a school schedule with no charting at night.She tells herself, Settle into this life and enjoy what is given. Giving it to God. Praying tomorrow will be better. One more book to finish. No, make that two.