My beans are broken.

Knock knock.

Hello. Remember me?

It’s me, the disappearing beancounter. I’ve been MIA for awhile.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat down and tried to blog. My draft box is full of half attempts. I just have not been able to do it. I knew that if I hit the “publish” button on anything I attempted to write, I’d be the biggest fraud this side of the Mason/Dixon line.

When I started this blog a few years ago, my intention was two-fold. The first reason was to share a humorous and lighthearted view of my life and all the chaos that surrounds it. Laughter is better than crying, right? Lol. My second reasoning was to glorify God in all things…. my writings, my ups and downs, in the valleys, and on the mountain tops.

I don’t know exactly when it happened…. when the words wouldn’t line up with my soul. I don’t know if I took a nasty fall from a mountaintop or nearly drowned in a valley. I just know I haven’t been myself.

I look around, and the world is broken. Literally broken. There’s a huge racial divide. Politics are like a bad scene from a soap opera. The weather has been crazy. The virus is a conspiracy. Or is it? People will cuss you out over a simple mask. Friendships are gone. Businesses are closing. Drug overdoses are skyrocketing. Let’s not even talk about the senseless killings lately. Even the homeless that we’ve helped for years are to approached with caution. It used to be that sin was done in the cover of darkness…. now it blatantly and unashamedly is done in broad daylight.

I seem to have hitched a ride on the struggle train….. with no end in sight.

I don’t understand where all the hatred and chaos is coming from. Not true…. I do understand some of it. But from my view, I’m watching the churchfolk and the barfolk act the same way….. threatening this and threatening that. Urging others to get concealed weapons licenses, and prepare to build compounds. I’m thinking they just need a Bible. God is love, right?

I don’t get it.

I’m over here like this is NOT my home. Why would I want to stay in this form of hell a day longer than I need to? Something better awaits me in a beautiful place, far from this cruel, broken world. No, I’m not suicidal, far from it. I just think many of us are fighting the wrong battle.

I’m tired. Am I supposed to be fighting a battle that is already won? Am I depressed? Or am I just in a different season of my life?

For the last 11 years, I have prayed for God to allow me to live long enough to see my boys grown and able to survive in this world without me. God gave me that.

God also gave me Preston. A love like no other…. not because we are special, but because He is. Our journey together has been action packed. we often joke that we’ve got 50 years worth of trials in the 9 we’ve been together. It’s not been easy. It’s lonely. That’s when you realize that Jesus is truly the only one who will never leave your side.

Depression. I know it’s real. But I don’t know if that is playing a role in where I am mentally right now. Not a day goes by that I don’t desire to serve God and seek the joy that is found only in Him. On my worst day, I still praise Him. I’m grateful.

Different season. With the boys grown and gone, I’m not sure how I feel. I’m not sad they are gone…. I’m quite proud of their accomplishments. They still call or come by every day to check on not just me, but Preston. I’m bothered that I no longer chase relationships or even seek other’s approval. I don’t know if it’s a “good” bothered or “bad” bothered. It is what it is….. I no longer feel the need to water a dead plant. I don’t know if that’s Christlike or not.

Growing up, I had a special person that was bigger than life to me. He became my hero at a very early age and I thought he was invincible. Through every single storm in my life…. he has been my go-to person. He is now on a journey of his own and I don’t think I’m mad at God about it but I’m sure pissed at the world about it.

My Pop. That’s a whole other blog of it’s own. In the last year, he’s battled cancer, and lost his kidney. Parkinson’s is taking a toll on his body. I’m slowly losing the ability to understand him talk. He recently fell and had to have total hip replacement. He’s had some major complications that I can’t go into on here for legal reasons. On his worst days, he still calls Preston and asks how he was doing. He’ll send me barely legible texts with our running joke…. that I’m his favorite daughter and he loves me. This man never gives up. My heart breaks for him.

In a few short days, I start back counseling with a wonderful lady who has helped me in the past. I’m hoping she can help me permanently to quit picking at scabs and lead me scripturally in finding peace and reconciliation with this new journey, whether it’s depression or a simply new season.

It’s a time to tackle and embrace it and put a name on it. This BeanCounter is sick and tired of being tired. No matter what, I know God is my source. Patti the counselor can’t fix me, but she can open up doors that I’ve slammed shut, and give me tools to help me live in this only hell I will ever know.

Be brave. And pray for me.

The BeanCounter

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