The Wits End

Maybe you have heard of “The Wits End”? It is not common for anyone to get to their wits end anymore. We all use more flowery and profane references these days when describing our lack of patience or stress levels. But to be at your wits end was once a true sign that I had gotten my Grandma’s “Goat”, she had had it with me or possibly something or somebody else. Most often it was me, so I am very familiar with the term.

This could explain why with a deep sigh, I thought to myself this morning…I’m at my wits end! I feel like I am pedaling as fast as I can and going nowhere at all. I have no patience, I struggle to be calm and nice and the thought of spring has me overwhelmed with all the outside tasks I need or want to do. Earlier this week I racked out my front flower beds and pulled something in my back, it’s a spot that pops up whenever I start yard work and spoils all of the fun. Maybe that is what put me at my wits end.

Maybe I am at my wits end because I know my college girls are coming home in a week and it will change how we have done things here that last few months. I am excited to have them home and spend precious time with them. I do know though that suddenly I will be tossed into the lives of these two young ladies. Feeling the need to offer my two cents that is most often unwanted and mother adult women that have lived on their own and have forgotten what it is like to live in my home. Glasses left alongside plates and napkins in random places. Containers of various foods and beverages empty quicker than I am use to and the biggest conundrum of all, worrying about their safety when they go out and about even though they have done who knows what and when, when they were away at school.

Here is a thought, maybe I am at my wits end because I worry about things I cannot control. Maybe if I just handed my worries over to God and let him carry the load. Nothing I have in my mind is really worth feeling so overwhelmed. Piling it all in a priority bag and handing it over is probably going to serve me better than trying to control my thoughts and not lash out at the next person that jumps in line for a piece of my brain or time. One thing is for sure, it all works out the way it is suppose to. So no stressing about my yard or my house or my girls is going to change what will actually happen. My wits end is just going to have to hang on and dangle there until I swing it over to God. I have to say though I wish Grandma had handed her worries with me over to God rather than giving me a spanking!