I keep my religous-ness pretty much close to the vest...not because I'm ashamed of it or out of some sense of guilty fear, but because it's one of the Big Three.
(The Big Three are the things one should probably just keep to oneself if one were to have any hope of playing well with others.)
(Oh, come on. You know what they are: s-e-x, politics, and religion.)
But I digress...
I was talking to my Aunt JoAnn recently about a situation that has had me completely....vexed, and she said "Coni Jo, just give it up to God".
My Aunt JoAnn has given me other pieces of good advice over the years, especially the one about putting on your lipstick and just getting on with it, so I figured I'd give it a shot. I don't normally do that kind of thing, since I always figured that the Big Man had a lot more important stuff to worry about than this idiot spinster bumble-clucking her way through things, and besides, I always figured that the best life philosophy was the one that told you to just sit in the back, keep quiet, and don't, under any circumstances, cause a stir.
But I digress again.
So as I soaked in the tub the other night I told the Big Man that I was just making a mess of this situation and that although He probably had other stuff like war and global warming to deal with, I could use a little help.
And then I remembered hearing one of the Housewives say "Jesus, take the wheel" and I thought that sounded pretty good. So I did, and got on with things and patted myself on the head for matching advice from my Aunt JoAnn with something I saw on the TeeVee, since that just confirmed that the advice was sound and I was apparently watching the right channel.
Last night, as I was tossing and turning and fretting and worrying, Stewey popped his head out of the blankets and asked me what all the fuss was about. So I tried to explain that I had recently decided to relinquish control over a situation and to just give it up to a higher power, but that I was a little frustrated at the path that was unfolding before me.
Stewey listened patiently, patted my hand, and nodded as if he understood and then told me that I couldn't ask Jesus to take the wheel and then bitch about His driving.
I sat in stunned silence.
He went back to sleep.
So, dear friends...give it up to God, listen to your Aunt JoAnn, and never, ever doubt that a nine pound Jack Russell terrier wearing a sleeping mask and a silk smoking jacket isn't truly the source of all wisdom.
Back to the Happy Chair today...we're closing in on a finish!