Tired. Depressed. Want to paint REAL art, the stuff from inside of me. Too tired. Want to curl up on the couch with a book. No- not really. Want a miracle transformation. Want to feel strong and full of hope, want to feel like my good ole self from long ago. Tired of the discheveled mess, I've let my life become. Tired of the discheveled house, that seems inpossible to stay on top of with three kids. Tired. Last night, in my dream, I was looking up at a grey blue evening sky with my son and a vision of Jesus appeared with His arms outstretched and John the Apostle at His side. There were others too- apostles, I'm assuming. My son and I were in awe. The vision was mostly in shades of white. No technicolor here. When I woke up, feeling like someone might just have to peel me from the bed, I remembered the vision clearly and pondered the meaning of it for a bit. Was it a sign that I would soon meet my Maker? As crappy and forlorn as I felt, I decided not. There was too much of a happy, hopeful, peaceful feeling, when we witnessed the vision. So I'm going with that. It was a sign of hope. That things will change for the better and the transformation will come.
And now, I'm off to deal with the discheveled house, and try to remember to just keep doing the next right thing, try and put my best foot forward, keep the faith and clean house within myself, one step at a time. The light will shine down on us once again.