Thursday's Child

Sometimes life is so hard. I know. Everyone knows this. It's no revelation, but I don't mean for it to be. I got an e-mail today from missionary friends who have been studying bible languages in France and are just now moving to Africa (their dream) to witness to people in languages never before witnessed in. They've been married three years and just had a perfect baby girl, who has a head full of bright, red hair. It makes me wonder again, if I'm doing something wrong. They have degrees, and masters, and a child. They're living their dream. My throat tightened up.

I am trying to move forward: this web site, my writing, finally putting it out there, looking into publication. I'm painting, scheduling rest. Not white-knuckled when I drive now. I am growing. But it still feels like life is passing me by. Like I'm being left behind. I've no one to influence. No one to raise. My family is older and has no need for me (as if they ever did). Ah yes, woe is me. Poor little sister. I know. I hear it. But this is a blog, and I am blogging. I do remember that day, the second blog called "Hope." I don't disbelieve it. But the Enemy knows where to poke me. And it hurts. I won't fall. It just hurts.