An Iron Will

A change of attitude, on my part, seems to be very necessary in order to survive the next several years. There's no doubt that I'm parenting some incredibly challenging children, that aspect I do understand. But they need to be parented as much as the easy kids need it, maybe even more so.

Do I believe in God's plan for my life, or not?

Yeah, I do.

There's nowhere in the Bible the promises a fire insurance plan for believers. If anything, I've found that serving God truly can take one into the pits of Hell. I'm bored to tears with all my complaining, it's getting me nowhere fast, so it's time for an apparently slow learner, like me, to get a grip and change lanes here.

Walking off isn't an option for me.

Buckling down seems to be more appropriate. These are the children that God clearly chose for me to parent, this is exactly where I should be doing this, and the sooner I get my head out of the clouds, the better.

My sniveling and carrying on isn't getting the job done.

My efforts will never be appreciated, nor rewarded. That's crystal clear to me, and jeepers Cindy, you never really expected anything anyway, so screw your head on tighter and keep on plugging away.

Not a martyr, but a doer...my choice.

It truly came to me yesterday as I muddled through my day, listening to JoJo blame everyone in the world, including me, of being racist and unfair, if only we were different, then he wouldn't have been suspended, everything is everyone's fault, in his muddled up thinking.

I cooked a big supper for a mean group of children, dropped most of them off at church, and went to a cheerleader meeting with Sabrina, writing checks for her camps and equipment, all the while thinking how lame it all is in the grand scheme of things.

"Do I look like a cheerleader's mom?" I growled at the sponsor who snarled back happily at me, shutting me up quickly, "Do I look like a cheerleader sponsor?"

OH sweetheart, I thought, you're so much younger and enthusiastic, I'm glad Sabrina will have you as an influence in her life.

I sat on the over-stuffed sofa with a deputy's wife and another young girl who has two sets of grandparents that I've known for decades, I clearly remember when she was born, she'd been in the church nursery with CW then, now they're both gonna start high school. Time does quickly fly and I should know that better than anyone, still shocked to find myself not far from 60 years old. If I round the numbers up, I find that I like the entire aspect of aging better.

So what if I chose, with God's spurring, an unfair life? My kids didn't choose what happened to them before foster care, it is what it is, and I need to model how to hold one's head above water, in spite of worldly circumstances.

I can do this. I can endure, and enjoy, the remaining years of parenting, I can work my butt off, absolutely unappreciated by anyone, because I'm not doing this for humans, but for God, because I was called to do so. Period, that's all she wrote. Duh, Cindy.

I have an iron will, a rock-strong discipline, and a clear plan of action. I know where I'm going.

Before I know it, these years'll zip by, and I'll be walking the sweet sandy beaches of Florida, inhaling salt air, watching the seagulls, and wondering what in the world I'm doing out in public, at my age, wearing a two piece bathing suit, hoping I remembered to put on both pieces. Is it acceptable to wear Depends out in public?

But that's the beauty of being my age, the freedom I've earned to wear Pjs to the grocery store. The pressure to even look halfway decent is off.