I’m in the middle of a project. I’ve been “climbing a mountain” and struggling along the way. I’ve been working on the plans, negotiating the steps, shaking bushes to gather appropriate input and discovering along the way that each step seems to highlight the next step.

And it feels like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff with the next step “by faith” that leads somewhere unseen by my eyes.

It’s frightening. I’m fearful.

If this was a year ago I would have no hesitation. But since last year and a big burning which has left me scorched from a bad business practice by a “professional”, I’m a bit cautious.

So I’ve been exploring, investigating, double-checking the options to make sure I understand the path. I’ve been praying.

Will you pray?
Pray that I understand the pathway c-l-e-a-r-l-y.
Pray that if this isn’t the correct path, God will intervene and redirect me.
Pray that my faith will grow as I trust God.
Pray that God provides the way.

And this I know:

Trust in the LORD with all your heart, And do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:5-6

And a friend reminded me of this:

“God loves me. God knows what is going on in my life. God can do something about it. I can trust Him in whatever He chooses to do!”

I don’t like having an empty nest. But there are good things that are actually on my list of favorites because I’m an empty nester.

I love it when my kids call.

And they do call. Often!

I can count on my son (the-NASA-lab-calibrator-who-is-finishing-up-his-bachelors-degree-from-U-of -H-in-August-woohoo!) calling me on Thursdays. On schedule as though it was planned, my phone rings with his number on caller ID.

He is calling for our weekly LOST debriefing.

“WOW, Mom! What do you think about that flash forward stuff?” “Wasn’t Hurley a hoot in that van?” “Do you think Locke will take Ben’s position as head of the Others?”

We talk. We scrape the skies with our theories. We swap ideas and character plot notions.

And I enjoy every second of the discussion knowing that in the next few days he will call again to tell me about a class he is taking or something he heard on the news.

I can count on my daughter (with-a-degree-in-advertising-working-for-the-largest-salty-snack-food-company-in-marketing) to send me an email with a photo of a purse she found at a cool new site she just found followed by a phone call.

“Coach purses are over-rated. I can buy several of these and know that no one else has one just like them for less than the price of a Coach! And mom! They are sooooo cute! Just look at this one!”

We talk. We discuss the latest American Idol or online marketing strategies. And we plan a shopping afternoon on the hunt for the perfect sandals or bath towels the color of periwinkle.

My heart swells and practically bursts at the thought of my love for them. I’ve spent their childhood enjoying them as children. And now I can spend a lifetime enjoying them as adults.

I’ve been wiggling 3-4 times a week with jazz-wigglercise and enjoying it very much. For the most part. I look forward to going which for me, is half the battle of doing the stuff that is good for you.

So, my first week I was Lucy. You remember her tying up the professional dancer while she took her place on stage. Turning the wrong direction at the wrong time. Kicking when she should have been lunging. Plieing when she should have been ball-changing.

My second week I was still Lucy, but not so bad. Maybe I was more like Ethel. I was picking up the steps a little but still struggling with the routines that are different every-single-time-I-go.

The third week was interrupted with a few days off and upon returning, I’m struggling once again.

In fact, on Friday when I was in class, a terrible panic crossed my mind as I struggled to remember the dance steps we had been doing for the past 2 minutes and I still wasn’t catching on. What if I can’t learn these steps?

I took tap and a few years of ballet but stepped out to take guitar lessons instead when I was a young girl. I went to my share of birthday parties where we danced the hokey pokey. In high school I was in the drill team my sophomore year but moved the next year and didn’t sign up for that again because of the intense competition at the new high school.

Add to that, I enjoy dancing. Dancing with daddy through the living room to the polka, the waltz. Dancing in college to the jitter bug, cotton-eyed-joe and two step is a part of my past enjoyment.

And so, in the midst of these jazz-wigglercise classes, there is a part of me that is beginning to stress at my memory loss.

Pray for me. I would like to learn the steps to get the most out of the exercise classes. The feel-good-endorphins seem to have stayed on vacation and I need some “happy” that chocolate can’t seem to manufacture for me.

Until then, I’ll practice with the hokey pokey.

Today Mr. Fabulous Fifty and I went to see Spiderman 3 in our local “Movie and Dinner” theater. Surprisingly enough, as the movie got started, the place was empty with the exception of a few other couples. As the movie’s credits began, another group entered the theater. Two moms and with five children, all under the age of 7 entered. In fact it appeared as though 3 were under the age of 4. They sat down and within moments, got up and moved. Another few minutes went by and they moved again. Up and down the aisle they went until they landed next to us. In an empty theater.

After only a few minutes, it was Mr FF and I who got up and moved, down lower because out of their 5 children, only 2 were quiet. They ran up and down the aisles. Jumped up and down on chairs. Talked loudly. Rapped on the seats in front of them. No amount of shushing helped. We moved and tried desparately to enjoy the movie, trying to ignore the obvious bad manners of these children, the lack of attention by the moms and the decision of the management to ignore it all.

It reminded me of the odd trip I took earlier this week on an airplane.

I don’t fly often, maybe once or twice every few years. But I do know appropriate behavior for sitting in chairs in public. The airplane had just taxed down the runway and we had just taken off when the woman sitting next to me stretched out sideways, extending her arms, shoulders, elbows, into my space, actually leaning on me. She dozed off to sleep, slumped over towards me. I moved as far away from her as I could, straining my back and neck to find a way to sit without her laying on top of me.

Just about then, I felt something moving and touching my bottom. Reacting, I quickly reached down, behind my bottom to discover the toes of the woman behind me. She had taken off her shoes and had put her feet up on the chair in front of her (mine) and wedged her toes into the area below the chairback, onto my seat cushion.

I thought that my hand pushing her feet off of me was a clear signal to her.

Not so.

I moved and pushed her feet off of my backside at least ten times by the time we landed a few hours later. She apparently didn’t think a thing about this battle over my chair space.

I got off of the flight in bewilderment that I had been surrounded by rude people who only cared about their own particular comfort despite the miscomfort they caused to others.

I know that Generation X has been renamed the “Me Generation” but I don’t think the “Me Generation” indicates an age group. These women on my flight and the ones in the movie theatre were not a part of the proper age group to be Generation X/Me.

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. Colossians 3:12-13

Mother’s day was great. I spent it and 4 extra days with my daughter. We took off, leaving work behind and had a relaxing few days with way too much food, wonderful warm weather and fun-filled activities.

She is one of my favorite people in the world. I’m blessed!