I'll be the first to admit that I'm weak.  

But secretly, I like to think of myself as strong...at least strong enough to protect myself and my family from...hurt, pain...suffering.  

But in reality, I can't.  

I'm not.

I'm feeling dried up right now. 

Not in control and forgetful.  

Lonely because I can't seem to share this with anyone.

I don't have all the answers...not even close.

My feeble understanding makes me crazy and sometimes edgy. 

All curled up in a little ball with my back to the storm trying to ignore the...what is it?  

Lack of something...or the abundance of something...like worthlessness.  

Or the weight of Mrs. Gardener's vengeance and her pain from long ago that covers her world in a veil of discontent and anger.

.

I don't like being here but I'm not sure how to get out.

Maybe chocolate will help.  Maybe chocolate is part of my problem.

Ignoring the problem won't solve it but dwelling on it and worrying won't either.

The truth is that it's out of my hands...my control...it's my problem but it isn't.

Know what I mean?

Sometimes it just about survival.

So I guess I'll just give it up.

I'm calling on someone bigger than me to take care of me...us. 

The uncertainty of unanswered prayer often frightens me.  

It's not that I don't trust God to answer...I know He will.  

But I don't know how.

Is that pride?

Pondering My Meanderings... 

with much herbal love, 

Wanderer