When you hear stories of individuals that have had multiple surgeries following an accident or to correct a congenital defect, etc. I consider myself blessed to have only had one major surgery.
Many years ago I severed two nerves and a tendon in my right arm and it required “tying” the ends of the nerves and tendon for the repair.
As a result, I have no feeling in my right hand and limited arm strength; but considering I did not lose hand function, I do not complain. (And I can tell you when the weather is going to change!)
GRATITUDE – we are grateful for what we have and care not about keeping up with the Jones
NO WASTE – we do not waste food or supplies. We thrive on leftovers! 🙂
REPURPOSE – we try to get our money’s worth out of an item before we replace it or upgrade it. We try as much as possible to donate, recycle, repurpose!
Patrick stared at the man, his eyes darting between the briefcase and the shadowed figure standing silently in the corner. He was trapped in a moral labyrinth, with no easy answers, no clear path out. The weight of his decision hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. The rain outside seemed to mirror the storm raging within him. It was a tempest of doubt and fear. He felt the crushing weight of his impending choice. The offer glittered with the promise of salvation. Yet, it was filled with the bitter taste of corruption and moral compromise. His silence, his hesitation, was a battle, a silent struggle against the forces that threatened to consume him. The shadows in Seattle City Hall had reached into his life. Their tendrils tightened, threatening to pull him into the darkness. He knew the path ahead would be treacherous, fraught with danger and difficult choices. He didn’t know if he had the strength to resist. He only knew that he needed time to decide. He needed a moment to steel his nerves. He had to find the courage to face his fate, whatever it may be. The clock ticked, each second a step closer to a decision that would forever alter the course of his life.
The key rattled in the lock, a discordant sound in the otherwise quiet house. Patrick entered, the chill of the Seattle night clinging to him like a shroud. He removed his coat with a stiff and awkward movement. The scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke clung to the fabric. Sarah, his wife, sat at the kitchen table. A half-finished cup of tea was cooling beside a stack of unpaid bills. Her gaze was fixed on him, sharp and assessing, a silent interrogation that made his stomach churn.
He forced a smile, a weak, unconvincing grimace that barely masked the turmoil within him. “Hey, honey. Long day.”
Sarah didn’t return the smile. She simply nodded, her expression unreadable, a careful mask of composure that he knew hid a deeper unease. He knew he’d been distant, preoccupied, ever since the cryptic text message had summoned him to that dimly lit bar. He had tried to hide the strain. He struggled to maintain the façade of normalcy. But the cracks were showing. They were widening with each passing day.
“It’s later than usual,” Sarah said, her voice calm, almost too calm. It was the calm before the storm, and Patrick knew it.
“Council work,” he mumbled, reaching for a glass of water. His hands trembled slightly, betraying his nervousness. He felt like a liar, a cheat, caught in the act of deception.
Sarah watched him, her eyes narrowed. She’d always been perceptive, intuitive, possessing a keen understanding of his moods, his silences. He knew she could smell a lie a mile away, and he was drowning in them.
“Council work that keeps you meeting in dive bars at ten o’clock at night?” she asked, her voice still calm, but the underlying tension was undeniable. The question hung in the air, heavy and accusatory.
He hesitated, the silence stretching between them, filled with unspoken accusations and unanswered questions. The lie he’d prepared crumbled in the face of her piercing gaze. He couldn’t bring himself to fabricate another excuse, to spin another web of deceit.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the gesture betraying his exhaustion and inner turmoil. “It wasn’t a dive bar,” he began, his voice low and hesitant. “It was… a meeting.”
“A meeting about what, Patrick?” she pressed, her voice laced with a hint of desperation, the mask of composure finally cracking.
He hesitated again, the weight of his secret pressing down on him, crushing him beneath its burden. He wanted to tell her, to confide in her, but the fear of her reaction held him back. He knew this would shatter their world, crack the foundation of their marriage.
“It’s…complicated,” he stammered, avoiding her gaze. “It’s about the campaign.”
“The campaign?” Sarah echoed, a note of skepticism in her voice. “What about the campaign? Are you in trouble?”
He truly saw then the worry etched on her face. Patrick noted the lines of concern around her eyes. Her distress pricked his conscience sharply. It added to his guilt and fear. The offer from the shadowy organization was more than a political gamble. It was a risk to his marriage and his family. It endangered everything he held dear.
He knew he couldn’t keep it a secret, not from her. Not anymore. The truth, he realized, would be far less damaging than the erosion of their trust, the growing chasm between them.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself for her reaction. “They offered to fund my campaign,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
Sarah’s eyes widened. “Who? Who offered to fund your campaign?”
He hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. He couldn’t mention the specifics of their deal; the implications were far too dangerous. But he had to give her some explanation, some semblance of understanding.
“Some…investors,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “People who believe in my vision for the city.” He watched her face carefully, trying to gauge her reaction, to assess the damage.
“Investors?” Sarah repeated, skepticism still evident in her voice. “Investors who meet in dive bars? Patrick, this doesn’t sound right.” Her voice cracked slightly, her composure finally crumbling. The fear was palpable now, a tangible presence in the room.
He knew he’d lost her trust. He’d pushed her to the brink, and the fault was entirely his. He’d tried to shield her from the dark side of politics, from the shadowy forces that threatened to engulf him. But his attempt at protection had backfired, creating a gulf of mistrust between them.
“It’s not what it seems,” he pleaded, reaching out to take her hand. She didn’t pull away, but neither did she meet his gaze. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, a testament to the damage he’d caused.
“It’s not what it seems?” Sarah repeated, her voice barely audible, a heartbreaking whisper. “Patrick, you’re hiding something. I can feel it. And it’s scaring me.”
The fear in her voice was a gut punch, sharper and more painful than any accusation. He’d never intended to hurt her, to cause her this kind of pain. He’d been caught up in his own internal struggle. He focused so much on his political survival. He’d neglected the most important thing in his life—his relationship with Sarah.
He told her more, reluctantly, cautiously, weighing each word. He described the financial pressures. The crushing weight of debt and the desperation had driven him to that meeting. He offered her some glimpse into the turmoil that had consumed him. He wanted to explain his actions, not to justify them.
He spoke of the seductive allure of the offer, the promise of financial security. He mentioned the allure of an easy path to victory. He spoke of the moral dilemma, the impossible choice between personal survival and public duty. He spoke of the fear. It was a constant, gnawing anxiety. He felt trapped in a web of deceit and corruption.
As he spoke, Sarah listened, her expression shifting from suspicion to concern, to a deep sadness. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t offer judgment, just listened, her empathy a balm to his tormented soul.
When he finished, a long silence hung in the air. The rain outside continued its relentless drumming against the windows, a rhythm that mirrored the turmoil within them. He looked at Sarah, his heart pounding in his chest, bracing for her anger, her disappointment, her rejection.
But instead, she reached out and gently took his hand. “I’m scared, Patrick,” she said, her voice soft, filled with worry. “But I’m not going to leave you.”
Her words were a lifeline, a beacon of hope in the storm that raged within him. He knew the path ahead would be difficult, fraught with danger and difficult choices. But he wouldn’t walk it alone. He had her support, her unwavering love. And that, he realized, was worth more than all the money in the world, more than any political victory. He still had the monumental decision ahead of him, the ethical quandary that threatened to consume him. But now, armed with Sarah’s love and understanding, he felt a renewed strength. He had a determination to fight for what he believed in. He wanted to resist the forces that threatened to pull him into the darkness. The rain outside had stopped, a sign of hope perhaps, a glimmer of light in the face of overwhelming darkness. The fight wasn’t over, not by a long shot. But for the first time in days, Patrick felt a glimmer of hope. He still had to face the shadows, but he wouldn’t have to face them alone. His wife’s love and understanding gave him the courage. They helped him face the tempest of his choices. He was able to navigate the treacherous waters ahead. And that, he knew, was a victory worth fighting for.
When I traveled to Puerto Vallarta recently, I became obsessed with fish tacos….They are the simplest food creation in the food, but the deep fried fish with the cole slaw and cream sauce was divine!
Discover the inspiring Bible stories of resilience that teach us how faith and perseverance can help us overcome life’s toughest challenges. Journey with Joseph, who rose from betrayal and imprisonment to become a savior of nations; witness Job’s unwavering faith amid profound suffering; and follow Ruth’s loyalty and grit as she bravely navigates loss and uncertainty. These timeless narratives remind us that resilience is not just a trait but a divine gift fueled by trust in God’s plan. Set against warm golden hour landscapes and intimate cinematic visuals, this reflective video offers hope and encouragement for anyone facing adversity. Like and share to inspire others with these powerful lessons of faith and strength.
I rely on my prayer life. I reach out to God any time I need guidance, strength, or help with a difficult situation. The Bible is my daily guide and source of comfort, hope, wisdom and knowledge.
I start every day with a verse from the Bible and prayer. This gets my mindset on the right track.
Church every Sunday.
I try to spend an hour once a week on a quiet hobby by myself….photography, writing, gardening, yard work. Whatever does NOT require me talking to another human.
Lemon and Rosemary 