Synonyms: adjective: petty, trifling, trivial
1.A niggling injury or worry is small but bothers you over a long period of time. Adjective usu ADJ n
◦Both players have been suffering from niggling injuries.
◦…a niggling worry that the cheap car is also the one that will cause endless trouble. quality; @; emotion
I sit here at my desk, staring. I don’t want to write this. I feel the need to confront a bad decision from years ago. Wondering how things would have, could have been different. Regret? Possibly.
I’ve watched, during my married military years, the process of my own pruning. His doing as He’s slowly, methodically taken away. I’ve posted about this before. Over time, I’ve lost, by virtue of distance, family, friends, familiar surroundings, general control of any future plans (the Air Force seems to keep that one.) Only to be replaced by His chosen. Hand-picked and perfect for me…. and us. Beyond wildest imaginings. A military family, life-long friends, experiences. Priceless memories.
This last move to Germany has been the biggest pruning, more like a lopping off! Just to clarify, pruning is not a dreaded thing.…although it does sting initially. It makes for a more healthy, thriving tree, or bush, or me. I have learned how to live without my own comfortable country, my deep, soulful, accessible friendships, the English language, familiar, convenient TV (this alone has broken my addiction to the news cycle), and really, my husband. The sweet thang’s position should really be considered a deployment as he is away from us several nights a week and must keep unbelievable hours the rest of the time.
In their places, I’ve been given the unexpected. Don’t you love surprises? Wrapped up with scrumptious bows of incredible flowers? He’s given me astonishing solitude, to ponder, and teach my children without interruption. He’s handed me the gift of introspection. And new wonderful blossoming camaraderies with amazing women. He has also granted me the peacefulness to rediscover a passion, long ago cast by the wayside in the busyness of life.
The back story:
I think it was my third year of college at Texas A&M University, when I began to wonder about my chosen degree track. I’d decided on a business degree, albeit a little torn
between marketing or an IT emphasis. But for some reason, even though I tried to pound them back, little furry doubts kept popping their heads from the ground. (Remember the “Whack a Mole” game at arcades?) Writing had always been an outlet for me. Writing was fun. My classmates complained and struggled with the dreaded English courses (English 101, and Technical Writing were both considered ‘weed out’ classes). I breezed through them, never quite ‘getting’ what all the fuss was about. I think I might have felt guilty for my A’s and it seemed I didn’t even work for them. I developed special relationships with my profs of those classes. One in particular talked to me about changing my major………
Hmmmmm…….What would that entail? How many hours would I lose? How much time would that delay my target graduation date? How would the parents react? Did I agonize over it? That word would be too strong. I did go back and talk with my high school English teachers, with whom, interestingly enough, I also had special kinships. You see, I also enjoyed their classes. They thought I was nuts. They weren’t happy with the current scenario of the education system within the state of Texas and were trying to genuinely help me…..by steering me away. Keep in mind this was back before Al Gore and the internet. Yes, I’m that old. An English degree then was mostly synonymous with ‘teacher’, which actually was what I was considering.
In the end, I wasn’t listening. To Him and His still small voice. To His gentle leading. He was telling me to follow my passions. You know those, the ones He gave me. Instead, I had been lured by the possibilities, the money, position. I graduated with a double degree in Marketing and Business Analysis (IT) and hoped to become a systems analyst. Here’s the funny part. No job offers upon graduation. This was great as I was newly engaged and would be moving to the thriving metropolis of………..Great Falls, Montana (for the first time) with my new Air Force officer husband.
Uh….not a lot of job opportunities for an entry-level systems analyst with no experience, in a large corporation (that doesn’t exist) on the western frontier town that boasts a downtown office for ‘Cattle Semen Sales’. I kid you not. Big city girl meets small town America. (Just for the record, we spent another tour, 15 years later, in Great Falls, and my kids think of it as ‘home’.)
Fast forward twenty years and four home schooled children.
Just as the migrating geese soar away in the fall, the years have disappeared and, until my recent swan dive into the world of blogging, I haven’t thought much about that previous decision. But lately I’ve been wondering…..what if I had listened? Would I now have a career with years of writing under my belt? Would I feel more empowered to critique my children’s writing assignments? Would I have had some sort of income, that maybe would have afforded me both the thrill of pursuing my passion, and also a profession that could be mobile and possibly done at home too?
Minor decision at the time…….major spiritual and lifelong implications. What if?
Back to the pruning. He’s had to take away so much (including a lot of noise and clutter) in order to give me what my soul needed. In taking me away from my world, He’s returned to me my passion. Funny, I didn’t even know it was missing. Creating……and being the conduit for the words He gives me. These last few months as I’ve slowly joined the blogosphere, I’ve felt my soul emerging from it’s cocoon.
Today I’m casting out the niggling. I’m admonishing my bad decision, and moving forward where He leads.
I long to write.