I Don't Get It

I don't get it, she said.
Get what? I asked.
Your blog.  I don't get it.
What's to get? I asked peevishly.
It doesn't make sense, she said.

She is the second person in as many days to tell me she doesn't understand.  I thought it was plain from the start.  My mind wanders.  I lost my essence somewhere along the way, and I am trying to find it.  I get emails regularly from people who see themselves in my pages or who chuckle at my dread of spiders or my love of chocolate.  Some sympathize, some lecture.  Most want a read to lighten their own load.  A few are looking for themselves.

It's all about you, she added testily.

Well, yes it is.  It's a sort of journal.  It tells of my ups and downs.  Once in awhile I get a special insight that might be inspiring to someone else.  Sometimes a friend flashes into my brain and I'll talk about that.  Some days are "if only" days.  Every day is a part of my journey.  Maybe I will touch someone.  Maybe that will be the person who can tell me why I feel a need to grow again.

You could write about me, she snipped.

I could, but you know my policy.  If you can't say something nice.....

You only care about YOU, she whined.

That's when I got mad.  Of course I care about me!  If there is no one else around, I still have to be with myself.  If I don't like myself, if I don't have beliefs strong enough to defend, if I love and don't share it, what am I good for?  I may as well be the pile of dung that Dee filled with lead or the weeds felled by the sickle. One thing I have learned on this trip is that if I don't like me, nobody else will, either.

You talk about God.  What if anybody reading doesn't believe in God? she asked, more quietly this time.  I may have scared her.

I believe.  Period.  Maybe by my faith and my example, I can draw others to God.  I live as if He is real, and He is watching.  If He is not real, I will still have made a place in the world as a decent human being.  If He is real, I will have eternal life and salvation.  It's a win-win.  I don't ask for you to believe as I do; I ask that you let me believe as I do.

You're not perfect, she pouted.  You're fat, your hair is grey even if you call it silver.  Your blouse is cut too low, your earrings are too big.  Your nails are outrageous. You use the same words over and over, your sentences are too long.  You dangle participles.  AND I saw you with some dude in a black GTO. Your husband has a red SUV!

Phew! She finally took a breath.  I raised one eyebrow and waited....nope, she was done with her rant.

I did not pray for patience (We all know what happens when you do that).  Instead I took note that her comments showed remarkable knowledge of my columns.  And the guy in the GTO was my husband, you nitwit.  The red SUV is my car.

For somebody who doesn't "get"  my blog, she sure reads it a lot.  We are traveling on the same road, she and I.  She just doesn't know it yet.

MzzrzzLikezThiz is a method of expression.  I hope I can help someone else in a small way as I help myself.  I write for the sheer joy of it.  I can't remember anything else that has brought me such happiness and satisfaction. Soon I will be at number 100.  Next week I will be in business meetings all week.  I will write when I can but I can't post until late in the week unless I can figure out how.  I hope you will miss me.  I hope you are one who can read between the lines.  I hope you are one who "gets" it!


Publisher's note: as I finished and was ready to publish, a note popped up as a sidebar. "Do you need a neurologist, or is it a psychiatrist you need?" with a website attached. Is that a hint?