It's a selfish admission, really. And while I believe we all need to focus on the blessings in our lives, sometimes it doesn't hurt to admit what's true.
Weight loss isn't going well. My on-again/off-again dieting strategy isn't effective. I get frustrated that a few bad decisions (or splurges) on my part means going back to the very beginning again. I feel like I'm forever stuck
My new regimen is meant to decrease the crazy amounts of insulin in my body so it will just work, but I will admit that low-carb eating requires copious amounts of planning. Every meal is episode in "Eat This Not That." Success with any new regimen is dependent on time, and that's exactly my problem.
Time is the real issue. It's been my issue for a while now. I just can't seem to reconcile the way time is meant to work. I've waited too long. I haven't waited long enough. Success doesn't happen overnight; Rome wasn't built in a day. But time flies and our lives are like a vapor. Why are words of wisdom so contradictory?
That's my dissatisfaction. I don't have enough time, but I've been waiting too long. How do you like them apples?
Today, Amy and Dusty received some fantastic news. God's hand here is obvious--that catch-in-the-throat-cannot-deny-his-presence-obvious. And I am so thankful their tenure in this metaphysical waiting room is over.
But I'm also thinking about a few of you--people I know who are waiting for something. Maybe years? Maybe months? And I want to let you know that I am holding your hand in this room. It doesn't really matter if you will choose door number one while I'm waiting for door number three; I get you.
I'm still waiting, too. Measured in months, eighty-five sounds like a lifetime. But it boils down to seven years in this little room waiting for my number to be called.
In my dissatisfaction, though, I wonder if I should've even take a number? If you're nodding your head, I'll gladly scooch over and share my couch. We may be here a while.