Chapter Six, Pauline discovers her purpose
For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. Ephesians 2:10
Pauline was in love with her house. She loved decorating, cleaning, cooking, anything to stay at home. In short, she was a hermit. Tyler had made a great little office for her out of an upstairs bedroom and she liked nothing better than to be there reading, writing, or napping. It had a yellow leather couch, plants, windows on the wooded back yard, and a vintage rattan desk that she felt sure must be just like Ernest Hemingway’s. Not that she had ever seen Ernest Hemingway’s. She would love to see his home in Key West. Not only had he been one of the greatest writers, but a unique personality as well. She had put in an oriental rug that almost covered the entire floor, to protect the beautiful maple flooring Tyler had installed. Other antiques filled the room; pictures, a rattan table matching the desk, book cases her father had built for her birthday one year, and old photographs of her ancestors. It was all very inspiring. There were so many things to love about this room. She felt she could live in it forever. It was a little like having her very own ivory tower and she had filled it with things that she loved.
Pauline kept herself too busy. She had a part time job, doing clerical work, but she tried to make extra money in several ways. For instance, she did book reviews, did freelance work for clients she found on Outworks, and wrote books. She liked to do her own cooking and cleaning and make gifts. She loved knitting and crochet, to the point that she had to have hand surgery a few times and if she wasn’t careful would need carpal tunnel surgery before long. What WAS going on with her hands? She had fallen skiing a few years ago, forward onto her hands, and after a few weeks the one hand and wrist were still hurting. Soon after that day, she developed clicking finger joints and had surgery for two trigger thumbs. Then, it was a ganglion cyst on one arm and now she was noticing some enlarged finger joints again. Could be overwork, she reflected. Why was she cursed to enjoy doing so many things with her hands? She was going to have to drop a few of them anyway, before her hands became useless.
In reality, that would be ok to drop a few things. She loved knitting but she could afford nice sweaters and gloves now. She might keep making dishcloths, because everyone loved them, but she could buy those too. Even the ones she made could be found at any craft fair or church bazaar. Who really cared if she made them herself. And there were so many great things you could eat without having to cook, or not much. There were places to get good homemade soup and certainly bread and cakes and cookies. Anything else could be found in a food service store or if all else failed, a restaurant. Many meals were just as cheap to eat at a restaurant. Burgers and sandwiches might even be cheaper. And not doing all these things herself, saved so much time for writing. She had not struck it rich yet on her writing, but the key word was “yet.” She didn’t have to compete with her brother, a writer, she didn’t have to do book reviews, and she didn’t even really need to keep her job. There, she’d said it. This year she would look for an insurance plan so she didn’t have to work. She had noticed that older people tended not to buy new things as often. Cars, clothes, plus they went out to eat more often. She, like it or not, was growing older and had a few limitations.
It made her sad. She had experienced family members growing old and dying, but until recently that prospect had seemed far away in her own life. Now she was getting old enough that the doctors just shook their heads and said, well, you’re just getting older.
But she felt that God had called her to something more. She had had an idea to form a paranormal support group. Not in support of the paranormal, of course, but to help people get delivered from its power. She couldn’t bear the thought of anyone she knew getting into demonic areas. For that matter, she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone not experiencing the love and joy she had experienced since she came to walk with the Lord. And at least for her it was a literal walking with the Lord. She would take a walk and talk to Him as she went, praying as she walked. She would comment on the flowers that she passed, the animals, the weather, anything that she appreciated at that moment. And even better, she would bring up before God any concerns that she had about her life or that of other people. She wondered if everyone did this. She had only heard a few people talk about it in this way, but it felt good to her.