a major life change

I want a baby. Or maybe I want a puppy. I might settle for repainting the whole house, selling it, and moving into a cool condo downtown.

If Mr. Fantastic came home and announced that we were moving to Siberia I would buy a fur coat and a plane ticket with anticipation brewing. 

I’m not unhappy. I don’t want to move. I just haven’t had a major life change lately and I have realized that I am addicted to major life changes.

I love the way a good major life change allows me to bump my normal responsibilities down a few notches on my list of priorities. And I am weary of my normal responsibilities.

So I begin a list of possible ways to completely up-end my life, when I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror and I see what I am avoiding:

This is my life, here and now, and I have more than I can handle most days. 

I’m trying to escape because that sounds better than trying yet once again to climb this beastly hill before me. I look in the eyes of my the reflection, at the deserter who is weary of holding her appointed post, and I tell her to suck it up. It was God Himself who asked her to climb in the first place, and to desert would be high treason. 

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