Nine Months

It's been nine months since my husband was laid off of his work. I think of how this nine months progressed, and it might be interesting to remember some of the developments along the way. It takes nine months for a baby to be born, and I see some parallels, however ridiculous.

The first month we are filled with shock, fear, surprise.
The second we feel a sense of expectancy for the future.
The third month we settle into a new norm of job searching.
The fourth month brings the roller coaster of dashed expectations and different hopes.
The fifth becomes a setting of the jaw time.
The sixth month is filled with prayers for SOMETHING to come up.
The seventh is bleak.
The eighth is numb.
The ninth is prayer with a note of desperation. PLEASE, LORD!

And yet we can "fret not." (Psalm 37) The Lord sees when a sparrow falls from a tree.  Are we not worth more than birds?
It's good to evaluate the lessons that are learned in the process of life changes. I know that I am more content to have things stay as they are, that is, to have stability and a steady means of provision.
It's almost too exciting to wait on the Lord, for Him to show His provision. We humans are funny creatures. We dream of one thing yet cling to another.
I have had some low thoughts lately, and I have been praying with a desperate note. Yet we are not desperate. That is only my perception.
I recall that at the beginning of this "adventure" I determined that I would see how the Lord would provide! He is mighty, and He has not forgotten us. I have not forgotten that purpose in my own heart. I'm just struggling with patience right now.
Summer is here in one sense. It is lovely outside and everything is green.
I drove to Little Falls, MN today (where Charles Lindbergh grew up) and the lakes along the road were deep sky-blue water. What a beautiful place we live in!
Miss Misty is now in heat. Wishing for a Corgi daddy to come and play, but haven't found one nearby. She gets limited privileges when she is in her time, and that makes her less happy.
She chewed off another Barbie doll hand. I guess we are going to have to start calling her "Shark." This too will pass. I'm afraid the Barbie will not recover.
Darling Daughter is getting too old for Barbies, anyway.
She is changing too.