Why do I think I need permission to enjoy life?
For some crazy reason, granting myself permission is often a crazy idea. I hesitate to do something, because I’m looking for permission. I want someone else to say it’s okay for me to proceed.
But as I have matured, ahem, grown older, I have learned that some things in my life no longer need a permission slip to be signed by my parent. I am very capable of making my own decisions. And with that I accept full responsibility for my actions.
I took a couple days off from posting here, and my old tendency would have been to feel like a failure. But I am learning that setting a goal, and missing a couple days will not derail me, nor define me, nor cause a catastrophic epidemic of world wide scope. No, I’ll just get back to it, when the right time is indicated. Like today.
When I realized I wouldn’t be able to blog for a couple days, I started to fret. But then, as I settled into a couple days off to celebrate life with my husband of almost 31 years, I gave myself a break. I didn’t chide myself, and I decided I could get back here when we had internet access again. (Since we’re out on the boat, sometimes we don’t have very good coverage. A crazy idea to be without connectivity, right? But sometimes unplugging is very good for the soul!) So I’m back with my crazy idea to write for the rest of October, and perhaps for a few extra days in November, who knows?) I give myself permission to see how life goes, and decide later.
What do you need permission for? Will you grant it to yourself? Do you need me to sign a permission slip for you? (*insert smiley face)
For of His fullness we have all received, and grace upon grace. (John 1:16 NASB)
souldare 
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