I want to stop and write, but the winds of life keep blowing distractions my way. Tornadoes, too close for comfort even when they don't directly touch me. Chaotic work schedules that are stressing me out more than I think they should. Sports teams (Dallas Mavericks, Texas Aggies baseball and softball, the Texas Rangers) I enjoy following making some great runs, which I like, but then I want to watch the games and catch the stories surrounding them, and I really don't have time -- especially since the schedule has me so far out of a routine.
I feel as if I've been blown off course, and I'm having trouble getting back on track. Things that usually really pick me up, such as visiting my parents and going to church with them; spending time in Texas with other family members, too; teams that look like they are down for the count coming through with big wins -- give a very fleeting pleasure, almost overridden by tiredness and a sense of ... what? Is it so what? Or, maybe, what now?
I just know I've had a great couple of days, and it seems unacceptable to let anything take away from that. I want to focus on the bright realities, the joyous and fun and intimate moments -- and not get caught up in speculation or anxiety about a potentially chaotic future. (The future also has the potential to unfold wonderfully, especially if I get out of the way and let it!)
So, earlier this very windy Memorial Day weekend Sunday in north Texas, my husband put up an ornamental, 8-foot-tall windmill at my parents' house. After days and weeks that have included too much wind and too many storms, I can't help but wonder if the structure stands a chance. But there's something hopeful and courageous -- maybe even stubborn -- about defying the wind's damaging threats.