Mid Life Crisis

I wish I was a kid again. Where my biggest decision was deciding what to wear to school, and my form of excitement was giggling with Kelly over our latest crushes. So much changes, I change, but then again I feel exactly the same.

I'm still the same girl who loves to dance in the kitchen...who loves teasing her little brother...who hates to see her dad upset...and who still fights with her little sister. I still love going through my moms artwork, and riding with my dad to work...I still love just existing with people...and all of that seems to get overshrouded with my reality of life: School, work, church. How I'm going to pay for school, where I am going to work, how do I make time for church with the two things before hand! And as I said earlier...I'm still the girl, that OVER thinks.

Therefore. I wish I was a kid again. I'm sick of thinking. But as I'm writing this I'm getting revelation...not really revelation....more like being reminded of having a childlike faith...

Kids are so trusting. I remember driving with my dad on icy roads when I was little...completely unconcerned with the peril that comes with that... because he was my dad...nothing was going to happen. Now, because I drive myself, riding with my dad on icy roads causes my leg to cramp with fruitless efforts to slam on my non-existent brake...Even though I usually think to myself..."Naomi, he's had 30 more years of experience than you do...you can't do this better than him."

Wow. I've talked myself out of my mid life crisis. My God knows all things, sees all things, controls all things. It's now my job to trust him as I did my dad when i was a kid...

Crazy.

It never fails, I get home and it feels as though I've never left. Temporarily I forget that I have another life in Dallas, Texas and I confuse myself...but then, when I sit and think...I re-adjust mindsets, what seemed confusing becomes rather clear, and priorities seem to just straighten right out...as though they were never out of order.

I like to talk. I really like to talk. I could talk for hours about the same subject and just somehow word it differently.

So, I've been thinking lately, and really pondering about what comes out of my mouth. I'm always examining, and re-examining what does, because as the Bible says, what comes out of your mouth is what's in your heart. And I want my heart to be full of Jesus...

Most definitely, there are a few subjects I have to sensor, because I have constantly dealt with what I meditate on...but today as I was talking with Kelly, I got through the logistics of friendships and other drama, and then just caught her up to speed on what God has been doing to me and then I realized that I always cut myself short for fear of going to deep. Even though, this is my BEST friend who knows if it wasn't for her I would be in my own world of metaphors and constant questions.

Many times because I'm always re-examining what comes out of my mouth, I'm always dogging myself for how little I actually say about Jesus...But as I re-examined myself today, I realized when I'm in a haven of safety (being with Kel, because she knows me better than anyone else) I can't hardly talk about anything else...and then am always apologizing for getting spiritual again, haha.

But you know what? I'm CRAZY about him! Downright crazy about him.

And Jesus didn't wait till people knew him well enough not to think he was a weirdo, and didn't talk about other things first to make sure he was relatable...His love for his father was evident...so ya know what, it needs to be on me too.

Don't worry, I won't become a space cadet...but I just love him. And he's hard for me not to talk about. So I've decided I will. More than I already do. :)

The Beginning.

All throughout highschool I would get home and quickly dash downstairs to the computer and login in to my cherished xanga account and write about my day. I remember this to be such a therapuetic time as I vented about how I got my finger caught in my locker or I was humming so loudly in class that the entire room stopped and stared at me. and I was embarrassed. It seemed to help with all the emotions that I do have, but I just bottle up inside. They weren't always poetically written, but they were real, and to this day, I still read through my xanga and remember very real hurts and joys of the time...and I laugh!

So, beware, these will be very real...and sometimes not always happy, and not always comfortable. But this blog really isn't for you, though I don't care that you read it...it's really for me.