Destiny

Someone, somewhere, cut thin strips of metal, scrolled them into a delicate design, fashioned a lantern, attached the little scrolls to it, and either sold or gifted it when their work was complete. It's only a guess, but I suppose it has been in my beloved's possession in excess of 30 years, and was destined to hang where I could see it every day and wonder. Wonder who carefully curled the little pieces of metal, wonder how it managed to captivate my beloved's imagination, and hold it captive so many years. Wonder if its destiny is complete or if it will find itself properly hung someday, with a fresh coat, rust removed.

It is human to wonder, 'is this the beginning, or the end?' We look upon the past and we think of it as the past, sort of stagnant and done, something to remember. Yet, as long as we live, there is the call to press on, to keep a hope and a promise alive. Holding to the belief that we are people of destiny. That there is more to come, more to unfold, more to dig, more to plant, more to refresh and renew. So, I'm home with thoughts to spare (and a new diagnosis...this one from a doctor...bronchitis) and I ponder the lantern as I ponder my own life. Was it hung to proclaim it's worth and value, to share it's beauty, or to mark it's final resting place? Is this it's destiny, or is there another post on which it will hang?

What a lousy habit we have, getting all stuck in the ruts that we wander into. How constantly I want to remember that I was fashioned even more carefully than this lamp, that my life holds purpose and value and that my beloved and I have a destiny that is worth chasing tirelessly every day of our lives. Rake over the trenches, make the path straight and get on with it. Straighten the post, seal it up so it will not rust away, put hand to plow and til the soil, for as people of destiny, there is no room for doubt and every moment is worth seizing.

Oh, that I could put action to my words. But I will, as tiny, faithful little steps, one at a time. I will start now, before he returns from faithful service. One small task, and then another, proclaiming, "I have grown tired, but not too tired to overcome". His heart, with mine, will be buoyed by the glimpses of hope and courage that we did not expect to find in the blind steps of faith, taken courageously without any idea where they would lead.

This is, for sure, the result of too much time on my hands. We can all look forward to the antibiotics doing their work and for me to return to a busy schedule with much less time to ponder.

In the meantime, thank you for your encouraging words. The wind is blowing wildly outside. It is a blustery, coastal night. I do not seem to have a fever for the first night in four. Our dear friend staying at the Cottage this night, will enjoy the stormy weather. I must prepare for my 200th blip, as every woman of destiny should.