God is faithful, this much I know, and Jesus loves me. Why isn't this enough? I am struggling these days with how much is enough. Is food and shelter enough? It's enough to survive, yes. It is not enough to thrive, which flies in the face of what I believe(d), the Jury's still out.
I am grateful for the essentials, I truly am, more than words can ever express. But I miss some of the other stuff. Laying down at night, reasonably assured, notwithstanding some dastardly event that threatens mankind, that the mortgage...not the rent...would be paid every month, no sweat. Then after the unthinkable happened, that the rent would be covered every month. Now that is no longer true and it robs me of peace, but then my peace should be in Him, so i'm doing something wrong.
I miss shopping, and I didn't even like to shop! I miss having options about things, things to purchase occasionally. What kind of couch do we want? What thread count for the sheets, what about that piece of art? When you go into someone's home, you can see what kind of personality they have by what they've chosen as their surroundings. So, that said, you can see our personality is worn out crap. This bothers me, so i'm doing something wrong.
I miss going places. How exciting, after 20 years of nothing, going almost nowhere, the world opened up with a wonderful man and some money to make the occasional weekend trip. Multnomah Falls, Disneyland, Portland, Monterey, I felt like a dried piece of leather that at last was drenched in moisture and was returning to life. It ended all too quickly when no job came, and it really bothers me, i'm doing something wrong.
I want to have people over at will, not decided by how many food stamps are left. I want to laugh, have conversation and just the exchange of one soul to another. I want to have a place that looks decent when people do come over and this one in particular is really getting to me. So i'm doing something wrong.
I know that Biblically, it's okay to feel these things, but that in reality, if I have enough bread and a roof, all the rest is unnecessary. But I am now questioning this. We are created in His likeness, we are creative, if that is totally stifled, can we be content? Hey, I tell myself, and it's truth, Corrie Ten Boom wasn't concerned with all this crap in the concentration camp, and she survived, and with grace and sweetness. So then I have to ask, was it because she wasn't alone there, those around her were like her. I decide, no, it's because she has more faith and fortitude than I do. So i'm doing something wrong.
Ok, so the only other thing I know for certain is, I'M DOING SOMETHING WRONG and don't know exactly what it is. I mean are we to ignore that restlessness that comes with discontent? Or is it a catalyst for change? I really have no idea, I have exhausted every way to change things that I can think of.
If something comes between me and Christ, that is a clue that it probably isn't good. And these longings are preoccupying my mind far too much. I do not have to look very far to know that I am fortunate in many ways, even in this straight place.
There is no conclusion.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
Musings 1/3/11
I'm 56, I have a picture of myself, the matriarch of my family, full of wisdom, imparting life's secrets to my appreciative children and grandchildren. Scratch that.
With each passing day I am more and more convinced that I know less and less about it all. Nothing makes sense anymore. Things that should be timeless seem not to withstand that test. Common sense seems not to count for much. And while this is not a bitter lambasting of how everything's gone to hell in a hand-basket, it is perhaps the proverbial shaking of the fist at the sky.
There is something drastically wrong when good men want to work, and send out resume after resume with zero results. Men with Master's degrees, or two good hands, both represent hard work. I have lost my good man for a while. He's lost himself and his dignity I fear and it breaks my heart. I try to carry the load, but how I miss him, and I'm so scared I won't make it. I'm tired and weary of all this. And without him, what's the point? So i'm trying to hold on until he returns. I miss him so much, his jokes, his laugh...I really miss his laugh...his twinkle in his eyes. I've watched him slowly fade away. He remains faithful to duty, but his eyes are blank. I will stand by him until I fade away myself. So we pass the days, living in the same space, but just floating from room to room.
All that said, and meant, that afore mentioned clenched fist thrust upward to the sky, was not a thinly veiled reference to God. God is the only One who makes waking up each day possible right now. God is the only One who gives strength when mine fails, comfort when there's nowhere to go and peace when I think there is none. God is the power that places one foot in front of the other each day. When I find my heart filled with doubt, anger, skepticism and apathy all at once, I know where my answer lies. I go, be alone with Him, pour it all out, even when my anger is misguided because it is at Him. He takes it all, lets me talk and rant, then...like magic...He holds me in His arms and it all washes away, like dirt. I came in the room in one state and leave in a completely different state. He is my Refuge, my Hope, my Salvation, my Peace.
So, tomorrow, i'll do it all again and try to be grateful for all that I do have, there is much.
With each passing day I am more and more convinced that I know less and less about it all. Nothing makes sense anymore. Things that should be timeless seem not to withstand that test. Common sense seems not to count for much. And while this is not a bitter lambasting of how everything's gone to hell in a hand-basket, it is perhaps the proverbial shaking of the fist at the sky.
There is something drastically wrong when good men want to work, and send out resume after resume with zero results. Men with Master's degrees, or two good hands, both represent hard work. I have lost my good man for a while. He's lost himself and his dignity I fear and it breaks my heart. I try to carry the load, but how I miss him, and I'm so scared I won't make it. I'm tired and weary of all this. And without him, what's the point? So i'm trying to hold on until he returns. I miss him so much, his jokes, his laugh...I really miss his laugh...his twinkle in his eyes. I've watched him slowly fade away. He remains faithful to duty, but his eyes are blank. I will stand by him until I fade away myself. So we pass the days, living in the same space, but just floating from room to room.
All that said, and meant, that afore mentioned clenched fist thrust upward to the sky, was not a thinly veiled reference to God. God is the only One who makes waking up each day possible right now. God is the only One who gives strength when mine fails, comfort when there's nowhere to go and peace when I think there is none. God is the power that places one foot in front of the other each day. When I find my heart filled with doubt, anger, skepticism and apathy all at once, I know where my answer lies. I go, be alone with Him, pour it all out, even when my anger is misguided because it is at Him. He takes it all, lets me talk and rant, then...like magic...He holds me in His arms and it all washes away, like dirt. I came in the room in one state and leave in a completely different state. He is my Refuge, my Hope, my Salvation, my Peace.
So, tomorrow, i'll do it all again and try to be grateful for all that I do have, there is much.
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