The Case of the Missing Socks

I posted a meme recently about how we sweat the small things in life sometimes. In response to the post, this is not for those of your who’ve conquered this malady, because it is almost an illness. 

The meme contained a picture of mixed matched socks. I made mention in my post that I would always get on my girls about their socks rarely matching. This small thing used to drive me absolutely nuts, in all honesty. Made my teeth itch. My oldest granddaughter would tell me, well they’re the same color” as if mattered. 

Lately, my very own socks have been missing in action. Sometimes I carefully pin them together when washing, but as of late, I have not. So now they’re disappearing. I looked in the lint trap in my dryer, no dice. I retraced my steps for the escapee from the basket. Nope. Just pouf! Gone. Displaced to the place they go, wherever the heck that is!

Then I thought about it. Missing socks for me personally is a metaphor. As I mentioned a while back, I would pin mine together. To keep them together. So that this would not disturb my peace. I’m far from a neat freak, but I do like a certain order. Missing socks breaks that order. I no longer have control of my socks. Therefore, socks have joined the ranks of things I can no longer control. And that irritates me.

We all like some semblance of control. We control what we eat, drink, wear, view on tv, just about everything. But in actuality we control very little. We operate under the delusion we’re running things. WE ARE NOT! 

I understand, before the religious get at me that we control a very minute portion of our world, and I thank God He’s in control and not me. But the case of the missing socks really brought it home for me. We can’t even control our freaking socks y’all! Control! It comes down to control. Janet Jackson’s jam was a big ol lie! She wasn’t running anything! She had all the young women when they left the nest thinking they were running stuff. Hah! 

My socks were my last stand of control, and they miraculously take flight. So even though I’ve always known God was running things, for us who lean towards being worry warts, and I know I’m not the only one, forget about it. 

Wrapping this up in a neat little bow, in my humble, control is synonymous with worry. We worry about that which we cannot control. Many of us don't care we can't control it, we'll worry despite that.

When issues arise, and we can't do anything about it, we have a tendency to worry, if only for a brief moment. If it’s out of our control, many of us pray and pick it right back up, when we’re supposed to leave it and let it go. Control-worry. Worry-control! STOP IT! 

Just go buy some more socks,

The Happiest of New Years to you, one and all.

Ninakupenda 

Kupendana

Christmas Time Is Here

It’s that peace on Earth, good will towards men time of year. What’s the song…? People making lists, buying special gifts. That time of year.

But I would venture to say for everyone that looks forward to the biggest holiday of the year, there are an equal number of those who dread it.  Loneliness for some creeps in and brings its best friend depression. Anxiety, in many cases goes through the roof. Anyone who’s lost a loved one recently can attest to that. Or had a medical issue. Or financial setbacks know this is not the most wonderful time of the year, contrary to what the song says. 

• Now, we love Jesus, most of us. However, sometimes it’s hard to conjure up that childlike wonder for the holiday. And why, for the reasons I’ve stated above. Plus, while some truly do feel they holiday down to their toes, other are fake. No smiles, though it’s hard to tell underneath the mask. This is the second Christmas out of our norm. COVID’s antivaxxers have really put a damper on the holiday this year. Last year we were feeling our way through. This year they know. They don’t care. Ok then, kill yourself, but why take someone with you? So again, families will be separated. The ones exercising great wisdom will, hopefully, especially from those unvaccinated. So, oldsters are alone. Can somebody buy their grandparents a smartphone so they can at least Google duo/FaceTime dear ones? But the elderly suffers most. 

The only thing that gets me through Christmas is remembering the true reason for the season. Christ Jesus. So, I’ll throw Christmas music in while I’m cooking. Or cleaning. Songs that focus on the gift and the giver of said gift. Combat depression by having your own party with the Babe in the manger. Celebrate Him!

I find it’s not only uplifting, but therapeutic. And stop buying a bunch of meaningless gifts for people who probably don’t appreciate them anyway. Uh Huh I Said It!

Rediscover the magic of the season. It’ll do you good! Merry Christmas everyone. 

Ninakupenda 

Kupendana