Indecision

I don't like to be the one to decide. True, the nature of my being is to hope that someone will make the decision for me and it will be the one I would have made, but I like to dodge the responsibility of making that decision on my own if at all possible. That doesn't happen often. My days are packed, seriously, stocked-full of decisions carefully considered and made by yours truly. So at the end of the day, if I haven't spent the time the week before making menus, I don't want to decide what we should eat for dinner. Especially if we are going out. It's becoming more and more rare for us to go out for a meal, so I want it to be perfect, delicious, and cheap; all of which cannot co-exist, as we all know. So I'd rather just let you decide, drive me there, and I'll eat what is set before me and enjoy it knowing that it's what you wanted.

Which leads me to the reason I am becoming more and more scarce in this venue. I don't know what to write. I know people like to see pictures of our lives here, I know that because they tell me, and because it keeps our families connected. I also know that people want to read about something I've learned, if there's anything worth sharing, because it encourages my friends that don't have time to read, to at least think. But here where it gets foggy. I want to write about what's on my mind. I want to spill my guts. I want to tell all my secrets here in this quiet room, on this clean screen in front of me, where everything is still and feels safe. But then I remember there are scary blog stockers that might exloit me for my secrets and make a fool of me for sharing!!! But on the other hand, I think that on the whole, we all think about this stuff, these private thoughts, and maybe it would benefit someone to read them, to shed light on them, and maybe share wisdom. At least if you know I'm thinking about it, and you're thinking about it, either we're normal, or we're all nuts. Right? I think so.

I don't know what to write, and I don't have the intellectual fortitude this late at night to make that decision, so I'll just tell you what's on my mind.

I'm a little homesick; it's hard to be this far away. At first I thought it would be good to get on our feet and find ourselves apart, make friends, taste life away. Now I just want to go home. We have a great life here, don't get me wrong. And I am really trying to savor the riches of everything the midwest is not, but tonight I'm homesick. I have a lot of people around me that I could call friends. But there's no one here that would not be shocked out of their wits to find me at spontaneously at their front door with all my kids in tow. I miss being able to just show up, eat your food, use your bathroom, and let my kids run free on your property while I take a nap on your couch or spin my life like a soap opera for your entertainment. I miss that the most.

Everyday I am reminded of the fact that family is God's gift to mankind, and in this my friends, I am rich. He grows us in roots and branches, extensions of each other; we share blood. Then He says, "Now, you are born again. So he's your brother, and she's your sister. Here is your family, grafted in to My family tree. You share My blood." It's just incredible. And yet there is such a sense of insecurity in our ties. I'm not sure that we are of the same blood because church people can be so perplexing; so I cover this part of me, the unveiled true-blue me, and play friendly and polite, but only if you do. You know what I mean? Which is why I just want to go home. I know my family, inside and out, ups and downs, the good, the bad and the ugly. There's no hiding and no reason to hide. And I know you talk about me, *they all think we're nuts* but I don't care, these are the ABC's of me, baby! With you I'm home.