Dirt and heart attacks

Why exactly have I not remembered to write as much as I used to? I missed getting my thoughts out on paper. Cheaper than therapy and less messy than gardening; although there’s quite a lot to be said about the satisfaction of picking the dirt out from under your nails while looking over a freshly cleaned flower bed and/or planters.

But anyway…

As I said, I’ve missed having this as my outlet to vent. And boy have I needed an outlet to vent.

I have been thinking a lot about the heart attacks everyone gives their parents throughout childhood lately. Growing up, I know I must have given my parents no fewer than half a dozen heart attacks (that I can think of – I’m sure they can easily count double or triple that).

While I am not entirely ready to discuss the details of what has been happening in public, I can say that the karmic powers that be have gotten me back and then some.

Luckily, the Good Lord has seen to it that the right people have been in my path and he has been great enough to answer some pretty tough prayers. Otherwise, I would have been a sobbing heap.