I have an opportunity to help at my church as a chat host.  I said I would pray and ask my husband.

 ( Hubby and I ask each other if we’re gonna do big or expensive stuff. we talk it out.)

 (But if we can’t agree, someone gets the final word.  It’s him.)

I asked him: 

he said absolutely not.

Screeching brakes.  Shattering glass.  Smell of burnt rubber.

I

 don’t

 want to

 accept that!


(I didn’t say that outloud. But I felt like it!)
People: I feel like I’m keeping my 

foot on the break in my life,

 with my hopes and dreams—-

 for EVER 

on a hill 

in SAN FRANCISCO! (Infamously hilly town)

There’s even a little annoying voice in my head that says,  “your man is too timid.  He’s holding you back, J.   Don’t listen to him.

  Go do what you want anyway.

  You know you can overwhelm his natural reticence and caution 

by the sheer force of your personality.”

Yep. I do.  I’ve done it before.  

Not a pretty picture.  Don’t ask.


Help.  Jesus.  Help.

I feel like Eve:  “Be like God, girl!”.

 Be your own woman.  Go for it. 
 Move ahead of Mr. StodgyandTimid and into your destiny!”

Yikes.

Just yikes.

 

More later.  πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™

Push comes to shove πŸŒ·

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