Growing

I am a control freak. Self-confessed. Betcha didn't know that, huh? Seriously, you didn't? Hmmm. Come try living at my house and ask Bo. :-)

It's a rare occasion if I haven't seen every piece of mail, not noticed a dollar missing from one of our accounts, or missed a crumb drop on the floor. I'm annoying about it.

Let me give you an example. We were at my grandma's sifting through her belongings when I told my mom I am going to start putting colored dots on everything I own so that when I die, each person knows exactly what I owned that I wanted them to have. I was kidding of course, except for the important valuables. {She told me I was ridiculous. I still might start a list...there's always a little truth buried in humor.} Controlling to the grave, I know.

Seems a blessing that there was a man created for me who can handle that level of insanity, and willingly I might add. I'm trying to let go. First, because I am eventually going to send myself to an early grave over a can of green beans label if it's facing the wrong way in the pantry. Who wants to die over that? Second, because it's not fair to Bo. That should be reason enough. And third, and most important, I'm challenging and denying God the ability to be present in my life and direct the path. So I give up, starting with maybe two of the seven days of the week...?

No, really. It seems lately there are detours on my path I need to take and just enjoy the journey. Husbands and an amazing God teach us that.