Thank God for Boot Straps

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Most young people don?t know what a boot strap is. I have a pair of cowboy boots that date back to the 1970?s. At the top are loops for me to put my fingers in so I can pull them on. I haven?t worn those boots in probably twenty years, but I can?t seem to part with them. They?ve danced a jig or two in their day and there?s also a hunk of leather missing from the toe where the one and only horse I ever owned stepped on my foot. (That?s another story.) Boy, if those boots could only talk.

I look back on those days and I cringe at some of the stuff I did. I also stand proud at the thought of things accomplished. I?m not one to talk about myself but I want to share a couple of things with you. Even positive gals like me get down and out sometimes. Being the control freak that I am I?m having a hard time with menopause, hot flashes and all the other stuff that comes with age. These life changes are completely out of my control so, all I can say is: Lord help me, and my family, to get through this.

Another situation that seems completely out of my control is finding an agent to represent my next novel, The Color of My Heart. I?ve sent out over one hundred queries and still counting. When do I stop? When do I throw my hands up and say, ?This just isn?t working??

I went to the doctor this morning for my six-month lab work to monitor my cholesterol, and such. While I was there I had the doctor look at my elbow, which has been giving me a fit for a couple of months. The final verdict: tendonitis. Typing and writing for hours every day have my tendons inflamed. Miss Doctor Lady told me she could give me oral steroids or a shot of steroids in the elbow. But, she was honest. She told me that the shot might last only a month. She said that as long as I was over working the tendons in my right arm I would have the inflammation and pain. So unless I give up my writing I?m going to hurt.

That is not good news to someone who stays on the computer or laptop for hours, every day. So, all this has got me to thinking. What am I supposed to do with the rest of my life? What would I be doing if not writing my stories? I have no idea. I think I could be a good volunteer at Hospice, and I know that would be very rewarding, but would I be happy? Would I be doing what I?m destined to do?

I don?t know about you guys, but sometimes I can feel the devil breathing down my neck; the hot, steamy air from his lungs penetrating my skin, blistering me to my very soul. Any time I get down and out, wondering which way to turn, I have to remind myself that old Satan doesn?t want me to succeed, so I must be getting pretty close to finding an agent or, maybe, I just need to go at it on my own, like I did with Guardian Spirit, and find myself a publisher. I might even venture into the land of self-publishing.

Either way, I?m going to reach down, link my fingers in the rich smelling leather of those old boot straps of mine and pull myself up out of this muck of self-groveling. I believe those boots, and myself have a few more stories to tell, and not even the booger-man himself is going to stop me. Look out world, Sarah Martin Byrd is not going to quit living and roll over and die just because of a few setbacks. I?m ready, but I?m not in a hurry to give up on this old world. Even with the hot flashes and tendonitis, life is good. We must never forget that getting old is a privilege denied to many. Count your blessings, not your aches, pains and disappointments. There may be rainy days, but the rainbow is never far away.

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