Never let 'em see you Sweat

Walking past the deck doors yesterday, I noticed my zinnias were hanging low. Curled leaves, turned dusty green, drooped beside orange flowers with sagging petals. This wet summer has made me even less vigilant on watering. Most of the flowers I plant in pots don't show that daily wilt of weaklings like impatiens or fuchsia. Much too fussy and demanding for me. Geraniums like to go dry and then get a ton of water - I can do that. Lantana love the desert-like conditions of my deck and my sporadic watering habits. Same for moss roses. Only problem is that by time they do tell me they're dry - they're most likely dead. So the wilted zinnias caused everyone to get a drink and an instant lift.
A friend called last night and she was having a horrible day. She said it only started getting better when she acknowledged it and shared it. I have an e-mail prayer group for my writing because I need to have a few folks I trust to let me vent, cry, express my fear, doubt and panic. Many times just typing the words starts the healing. Then to know others are reading about my pain and praying for me. It's like a cool drink of water on a hot day.
Writing yesterday's blog about the darkness of the tunnel was hard - to lay it out on the line and say, I'm struggling. But being strong all the time is a fallacy. A lie. Portraying never flagging strength is a sure sign of inner weakness. To never stop and rest is to deny being human. To want to be God.
And I'm pretty sure that's what got Adam and Eve in trouble.
God knows we have limits and gave us each other to lean on. I need to be more like my zinnia and let others see my struggle. Not like my lantana - only admitting failure when I'm dead.