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What is the #%*&# Sign?

My sponsor asked me the other day, “What is the fucking sign, Erin?”


This was her response to my repeated statements of “I am going to leave it up to God and trust that when it is time, I will know. I will see the sign.”


I have been saying this for at least a year about one particular issue in my life...and likely have said it, and meant it, about a thousand others.


She actually kind of yelled it at me. Which made me happy because when I make her yell, I know I am on the edge of growth. She is patient, loving and kind, until she just can’t take me anymore, then she raises her voice in an effort to get through my thick skull that I am missing the fucking point, again...still.


It also made me happy because I am perverse like that. And pissing her off, while not a past time, or really even a goal, feels like an accomplishment of some kind.

But the joke was on me, she gave me homework which I conveniently turned into a blog post - two birds, no stones.

So what does the sign from God look like that I am waiting for?

Ummmmm, I have thought about this question for three days now and I haven’t a clue. I mean I wouldn’t know the sign if it ran up and introduced itself to me. I mean how could I possibly be so arrogant to think that I can or could interpret a sign from the Divine arranger of the universe? Wow. I am a lot...

I do know that there are signs all the time which only helps me if I am capable of reading them correctly, which she assures me, routinely and accurately, that I do not. And just when I thought I was getting somewhere...WRONG AGAIN!

So what will this sign look like when it arrives to give me the message that it is time to move the fuck on? Will it be painful? Hard? Easy? A Gift? A burden?


The answer, the only answer to all of the above questions is yes. Whatever I am moved to next will be painful at times, hard at times, easy at times, a gift at times and a burden at times. So it really doesn’t matter what the fucking sign is...or whether I see it or not. The likelihood of me seeing the sign, correctly interpreting the sign and taking the correct follow up or corrective action is fucking slim.


Sigh.

But all of the thoughts about signage has caused me to ask a new question...how much life have I missed because I was so busy looking for the fucking sign?

Which has led me to the conclusion that I do not need a sign...what I need is courage. A lot of fucking courage. To look deeply within my own heart and hear what is true for me. I need to forge no campaigns. Rally no troops or alliances. I need only just take a time out and see what I need. And I have steps, and tools and a sponsor who yells at me to help me if I get lost in the trappings of my own mind and heart. What I need is courage to make a leap of faith...


So dear sponsor, you were the fucking sign. I missed it with all your yelling (not really - she really barely yelled and I am making a big deal out of it because I find it funny and I am overly dramatic). The sign I needed was someone who knows me and loves me enough to tell me politely for months and then not so politely the other day that what I lack isn’t a fucking sign, it is courage to do what I know I needs to be done.

Ok, so does anyone know where to get courage, now that I have given up the hunt for the fucking sign? Help a sister out, give me a shout out if you know where I can find the courage to do what I know needs to be done. Seriously, I am clueless over here.

And please for the love of all that is holy and good, do NOT fucking tell me to look within...I have spent a lifetime hiding shit in there and that would require even more courage to dare look there.


Of course, I am kidding, I know the courage comes not from making myself super busy considering all the angles, consulting all the people, writing all the blogs, but from sitting quietly with myself until the voice inside me becomes loud enough for even me to hear. And then, I have only to step out and trust that the hand of God will be there to catch me...just like it has always done for the entirety of my life.


Ok, I have to go cry in the plane bathroom now...who knows, maybe I will find courage there. I mean if Meatloaf can find paradise by the dashboard light, maybe I can find courage in an airplane bathroom at 30,000 feet...




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