- A slow, stately pattern dance in 3/4 time for groups of couples, originating in 17th-century France.
- The music for or in the rhythm of the minuet.
- A movement in 3/4 time that is usually the third, but sometimes the second, of a four-movement symphony or string quartet.
Musings means
–verb (used without object)
–verb (used with object)
| 1. | to think or meditate in silence, as on some subject. |
| 2. | Archaic. to gaze meditatively or wonderingly. |
| 3. | to meditate on. |
| 4. | to comment thoughtfully or ruminate upon. |
[Origin: 1300–50; ME musen to mutter, gaze meditatively on, be astonished <>muser, perh. ult. deriv. of ML mūsum muzzle
]
] And at the moment--Small, slow thoughts are about all I can manage.
Why Now?
Well--
I have hit an all time low in my life. I realized last night I have not been complete honest with anyone in my life. Not my family, not my closest friends, not my outer circle of friends, not even my psychologist, Lydia.
So now, about a week before my birthday, I am realizing I need help. With a capital H. And I don't really know how to ask for it or accept it. I know many people have offered. Financial help, emotional help, spiritual help, physical help. And I have turned so many of them down.
Why? I wish there was an easy answer. If there was, maybe I could overcome this sense of dread I feel when I know I need to ask for help, and just can't. I really need help right now. And I know it. But I feel like, if I start asking for help, I may never be able to be an independent, competent person again. I'll always feel indebted to others.
I can't explain why feeling independent is so important to me. I have always been considered the strong one, the competent one, the one able to do more, be more. I feel like if I don't live up to these expectations that I will lose who I am. Maybe I don't really know who I am.
I'd like to think that my closest friends know who it is I could be. But I know I shouldn't rely on their image to figure this one out. I know that at one time years ago, I was always the person I think of myself as. Recently--very very few people get to see that person. I started singing last night a musical I was in when I was in about the 5th or 6th grade. There were two solos in it. The lead boy character (a young boy from Jeruselem who was horribly disfigured) sings one. and the lead female character (yes, I played her) his mother who has ignored him because of this sings the other one. They are "The Real Me" and "Heavenly Father, Please Forgive."
Words for the songs (As I remember them)
The Real Me
The real me, the real me, the one that God designs. His priceless creation, not someone I must hide. Not the me I want to be, not the me my friends can see. God looks inside and sees the real me.
Heavenly Father, Please Forgive
Lord of Earth, Lord of Heaven, Gentle Father, please forgive. Asking for your tender mercy, Heavenly Father, please forgive. Take me in your presence, Father. Let me see your light and love. You who are so good and holy, Heavenly Father, please forgive.
Those were my prayers over and over as I sat in the adoration chapel at church last night. Who is the "Real Me" that God is designing here and Heavenly Father, please forgive.
Strangely enough, there are maybe 4 or 5 people in the world who even have a inkling of who that person God is designing is and can be. And I fear that those who don't already know, how much I have lied will not want to be near me. I am afraid they will never trust me enough to stick with me. So if I decide to let you all read this, Annie, Bob, Curt, Dave, Lisa, I am sorry. I hope you know that you are the five people in this world closest to my heart and soul.
And I am truly sorry
