Bring Your Drum
I have given up trying to fit in.
It never works. Besides, those that hear me beating my drum, come from their corners beating their drums, and before you know it, we’ve got a parade down Main Street. So meet us in the Hardware store parking lot at 5 the day after tomorrow. Bring your drum.
I have given up trying to control all the things: marriage, interest rates, and the multicolor rainbow array of my children’s choices. I have decided to lessen the grip on the reins, and rest in the reality that something Bigger is piloting this Vessel of Life.
I have given up the idea of what “good” women do: keep the house, make the meals, and act the part. If for some reason while showering, God tells me, “go to the woods”, I’m gonna do it. Not being completely reckless, I tell Tom prior to departure where to look for the body. In the woods, I keep coming Home to myself, realizing she’s pretty fantastic…this old girl created in the image and all.
And so are you. You are too. AND SO ARE YOU!
So next week, instead of the Hardware store parking lot, let’s meet near the base of the redwood trees, with our drums, off key singing voices, and pita chips.
Together we will march and dance and sing, giving up the notion of whatever it is we should be doing instead.
No RSVP required.