Families are interesting and complicated. Everyone has their role to play, and sometimes those assigned roles (or assumed, not sure which) can carry on for decades. God help me, I am the "peacemaker."

I stink at confrontation. Pretty much I am the family wimp. I sort of stand back and let other people be the dragon slayers. I just mop up the blood, stitch up the wounds, and bake everyone cookies after the battle has been fought. I am no warrior. I listen to everyone, and can truly feel their pain, even if I am not sure they are always "right." Pain and loss make people a little crazy, and everyone needs someone to tell them that it is going to be okay. That is one of my best things. I say that a lot. I actually believe it too.

Sometimes I do wonder if I am playing the role that God chose for me, or the one I feel safest playing. Is God nudging me closer to the front lines? Or am I still needed in the tents caring for the wounded?

Fifty-seven is entirely too old to indulge in such self-examination. I think I'll go bake some cookies.