Back to the beginning...

Edits are continuing along. I'm taking the opportunity to do some reflecting to gain a better perspective of where I'm going.

I'm hoping that by starting at the beginning, I will somehow create a new picture or a more complete picture. Not the beginning, beginning, but the beginning when my life started to change. Today's post is about laying the ground work. I've collected a lot of puzzle pieces over the last ten years. I want to see what's revealed now.

I spent so much of my life stumbling along. I'd make plans, and God would laugh. I reached the point where I decided planning ahead was a fruitless activity. What was the point if something was going to come along - something I hadn't anticipated - and change everything? Because it always did. I couldn't even plan my life a week in advance sometimes. Planning a day in advance was a challenge, from time to time. Occasionally, planning an hour in advance was too much. I was often amazed by the stumbling blocks thrown in my way.

So I lived my life a bit at a time. What happened happened, and what didn't didn't.

It sounds flaky, and by all accounts and purposes, it was flaky. That being said, I was blessed with some amazing experiences because I was open to the possibilities.

I remember, in my late 20s or early 30s, someone minimalized my personal sorrow over being single. (I've mentioned it here before, but for anyone new reading, all I ever wanted to do was marry and be a mother. It didn't happen.) They told me I needed to take the opportunity to fulfill my dreams because once I was married, it was all over.

Wait... What?

By that time, I knew I'd seen more and done more in 25 years than most people did in a lifetime. I'd fulfilled every dream I'd had up to that point and several I'd never imagined. For example, this was before I owned a horse.

Though my philosophy of planning was flaky, it served me.

For years, I talked about my wanderlust, then I decided it was time to take off the gypsy boots.

So much of my life was lived in quiet turmoil. I learned to pretend all was calm, on the surface. I adopted a dog. She became a grounding force in my life. Being flaky didn't cut it. She had to be fed and walked and cared for, every day, no matter what. She was a constant. Then I adopted a horse. The dog was incredibly flexible in comparison. Then again, I wasn't the typical horse owner. I boarded my horse not far from home. Every day, for five years, I drove out and grained and groomed. We didn't ride much. Riding wasn't the point of our relationship. There is something about the association with an equine, unlike with my canine. My vet once quipped that if reincarnation was real, then she wanted to come back as my horse or my dog.

My dog adored me. She would do anything for me. My horse was disdainful and not particularly trusting, but there was a bond between us. My dog was my angel child, and my horse was my problem child. I loved them both, and they both taught me different things, and yet it was the same: Old dogs can learn new tricks, and trust is earned not by what you say but by what you do. Healthy relationships are worth the pain and time and effort. Unconditional love is a gift.

My furry children helped strengthen the foundation (Jesus Christ) on which I'd build the rest of my life. They were my living proof God loved me unconditionally.