I write for therapy. When I am stressed, angry, happy, melancholy or all of the above, my first desire is to write something down. I'm sitting here, eating a delicious salad and writing whatever comes to my pointed little head. Grammar perfectionists, you may want to medicate yourselves before continuing. When I am feeling this way, my mind and fingers aren't always in sync and I don't give a rip. Don't say I didn't give you fair warning. I have a lot of stress going on in my life and most of it is not going on the internet. I can't quite understand why folks put their dirty laundry and drunken blunders on the internet. Probably because I am not drunk. Maybe it makes more sense then? Everything you do makes seems like a fabulous idea when you're drunk, right? I digress, back to what I am writing about. So, here I am with lots of stress, most of which is none of your danged business. I am going to begin with the phone call I received just before go
Musing of a mostly sane, perfectly saved and yet entirely flawed bible believing woman and biblical counselor.