Ghostly Memories and Goblins of Worry

Today is Halloween, bringing thoughts of popcorn balls, caramel apples and old-fashioned homemade candies of all kinds. 

Did you ever pull taffy as a child? Homemade pulled taffy was quite a production. Not only did we have to get the ingredients to just the right temperature, but to get the desired results we had to pull it while it was still hot. With well-buttered hands my sisters and I tentatively grabbed a chunk of the taffy, knowing that it may burn a bit, but eager to see the golden ropes twist and lighten and reach absolute perfection before cooling. The thrilling process was a large part of the enjoyment of the precious confection and it was absolutely necessary in order to change the sugar mixture into the candy of our dreams.

I’ve been feeling a bit pulled and twisted myself, lately, just like that sweet concoction.

At my work, our director of internal fiscal services has shifted three of her responsibilities to me. I’m flattered at the trust this shows, but there will be lots of out-of-town training sessions in my future as I learn the intricacies of the tasks.

Two of my three sons are experiencing crises in their lives. One of them lives eight hours away by car and the other is more than twice that distance by air. My youngest, a sophomore in college and living at home is still only concerned with getting his homework done, fortunately, but two out of three is enough worries for this mother.

I have a friend at work, in her mid-thirties, who has no children and is quite satisfied to have none. While I don’t know if this is a conscious choice that she and her husband made or if they are practicing contentment in all circumstances as Paul advised, she is happy to have freedom from the worries that go along with being a mother.  I must admit that her lifestyle does seem to have its advantages.

I can’t say that I wish I could change places with her, though.  I know that the joy my children give me is worth any price I may pay. I even have a hope that the twisting and pulling of motherhood may actually change me into a sweeter creation of the Father. 

I just hope I don’t cool down too soon to realize the transformation.

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About Jonna Hawker Turek

I write Christian fiction under my maiden name, J.B. Hawker.
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