title change

Chris teases me about not at all really living my life "at the end of thin branches." and its true. My life is pretty sedate for the most part. I have whispers of adventures here and there, but I am not sure I would actually call it living at the end of a thin branch. I love the phrase though.

When my dear, sweet friend John Stager was still around, his daughter came into town. She told me how as a little girl she loved to climb anything and everything. She was especially known for climbing trees to the very tippy tip top and then inch her way to the furthest part of the branch that would bare her weight. Several times she snuck so far out on the limb that it finally gave under the weight of her and broke sending her crashing to the ground. I loved this story and the image of climbing to the top, inching out to the edge and swaying, swinging at the end of a thin branch. So that was the title of my blog.

But this week actually feels like the end of a thin branch. I am awaiting big news and I am swaying and swinging in the suspense. This kind of thin branch I am not excited to be on. I am teetering between preparing myself for the fall, and convincing myself that there is a enough faith to believe that the branch will hold, grow, and extend even further out. I would rather be still, and know. I would rather be in a beautiful place of worship, surrounded by grace. So, maybe as a moderately sedate life being called "at the end of thin branches" brought the thin branch, I can call this "a beautiful place of worship, surrounded by grace" so that I might find this suspenseful, nail-biting place a place of worship, and the outcome no matter what it might be, a place of grace.