May 19th Journal Entry

A warm shower this morning, a dry blanket, and I feel better. But I also feel like a wimp. I had to come home, when I might have been able to wait out the rain for a few more days. I will be thinking about this. I don't want to quit. I want to go on. I will be going back with much less clothing, bedding and cooking gear. The eleven foot raft will have much less room. I will need to make changes in my cooking style, more aluminum foil, more fish, and lots of fruits. No cans, a pot for boilings, peanut butter, vitamins. No underwear bottoms, because I will be peeing while afloat.
Still, I need people. I talk with them, hug and share with them. Can you arrange this, dear? I know the journey is the right thing to do. A test of courage, a trial by fire, perhaps? I know this is right, but I have nothing to prove. You are with me no matter what. You will bless me with joy always, even when I starve and freeze, if my bed is afloat.
I will not know the reason until this journey ends, continues, ends. I will continue. I will end it later. I will think about this more.

June 17th Journal Entry Wondering why I haven't gone to the river yet?

The past few days have been a time of irritation. My face was swelled out so much my skin felt tight and itchy. Red everywhere except for my forehead, my nose itched and looked like an over large radish attached to a red beach ball. I dreaded putting a razor to my face and decided not to one day. Thanks for reminding me that tiny golden hairs sprouting from a beach ball do not unmake a woman and bring negative attention near as much as the red beach ball all by itself.
I purchased antihistamine and went to the doctor's when the swelling in my throat became worrisome. I applied cortisone  twice a day as instructed and was glad that the itch moderated. Now, my face still itches but the swelling has gone down and the redness is lightening to sunburn pink.
During this swelling time I tried to stay at home and out of sight, but found I was very uncomfortable doing so. At first, I attributed this discomfort to the itch and to worry that I looked so bad that I did not want anyone to see me. But as time passed I recognized the falsity of these explanations.  I was antsy not because of the itch. I was uncomfortable because I was not interacting,  in communication, sharing with anyone but you. You are alright, but you have to admit that most of our conversations are one-sided. I talk and you listen. You show and I see. You hardly ever talk and I hardly ever show.
When I am with other folks, I spend much time listening and much time showing. I was missing that people centered dynamic. Because I missed that interaction I slipped into analyzing mode, and started wondering why I missed that kind of people sharing. Why?
I remember that I have a very high need to be loving. That doesn't mean I need to be loved much, but I need to be expressing love and caring to be happy. That's part of my genetic make up, something I can not change and don't ever want to change. When my father tried to use killing my pets and beating the snot out of my mother against me, I reached out to protect and care even more. Although I have a more than average need for freedom, that kicks in whenever I experience some one's attempts to control me, I still need always to find ways to help people.

May 22nd Journal Entry

The sun shown all day Saturday. The weather was very warm, and not too humid. I talked and talked, first to Bess, then to Nun, with the mailman and with Eric. Lovely day, Thanks!
I strolled to the Lutheran Church in a light, variable breeze this morning. The wind was smooth on my face. Four people without being asked said, I should not be floating for a while. Two worried about flood waters overflowing the Mississippi Valley. One thought the thunderstorm warning with 2 and 3 inch hail should be keeping me at home.
I had a fine time singing and Pastor Steve said I should stay around a while. On the walk home I thought about all that these people had said and about similar remarks made by folks at the Farmers' Market yesterday. Seems you are telling me to wait. I'll hold on at home for another week.
Lots of rain this afternoon. One burst put an inch of water on the ground in less than 20 minutes. Lorrie brought chicken home and the across-the-street neighbors had a dispute going that involved the police. A not boring day.
Good night, Lord.

May 19th Journal Entry

A warm shower this morning, a dry blanket, and I feel better. But I also feel like a wimp. I had to come home, when I might have been able to wait out the rain for a few more days. I will be thinking about this. I don't want to quit. I want to go on. I will be going back with much less clothing, bedding and cooking gear. The eleven foot raft will have much less room. I will need to make changes in my cooking style, more aluminum foil, more fish, and lots of fruits. No cans, a pot for boilings, peanut butter, vitamins. No underwear bottoms, because I will be peeing while afloat.
Still, I need people. I talk with them, hug and share with them. Can you arrange this, dear? I know the journey is the right thing to do. A test of courage, a trial by fire, perhaps? I know this is right, but I have nothing to prove. You are with me no matter what. You will bless me with joy always, even when I starve and freeze, if my bed is afloat.
I will not know the reason until this journey ends, continues, ends. I will continue. I will end it later. I will think about this more.