Posts Tagged Church
* I really don’t like it when people say you should live like you’re dying. I get it and everything, but I’d rather live like I’m living.
* Stepped on a slug the other night. Barefoot. Uh huh. Was just going in the back yard with Togo to enjoy the beautiful spring night sky right before bed. It was late and I didn’t have the lights on. Let me tell you, I will never forget the feeling of my foot beginning to come down on that thing before I realized what was happening and a low, guttural, moan began to emit from somewhere deep down, which gradually got higher and higher until I was yelling. YELLING. In the back yard at 11:00 pm on a week night. With my neighbors’ bedroom window less than 20 feet away. I couldn’t help it. I had no choice. For those of you who have never had this opportunity (as far as I know, my brother-in-law and I are now part of an elite club), I will tell you that it is not pleasant. Those suckers are like tar. Impossible to clean off the bottom of your foot. And I did try while continuing to yell, gag, dance and throw my head around in the circles the entire time that I had my foot at head level in the kitchen sink while scrubbing with hot water and dish soap.
* I love to say the word “delete” as though it’s a Spanish word. Deh-leh-tay. Try it. It’s amazing. The d and the t both have a soft sound in Spanish, where you keep your tongue between your teeth and the difference between them is minimal in this word. You almost can’t hear the difference and yet you can. I like to do it over and over, analyzing the amazingness of it all. It’s like the difference is only one millimeter between where one places one’s tongue between one’s teeth. I can’t believe one millimeter makes enough difference to change a sound. Deh-leh-tay. Wow.
*ONLY ONE WEEK LEFT OF SCHOOL FOR THE KIDS!!!!!!!! For those of you who have continued to follow my exciting life (which I admit, is not easy to follow here, since I can’t seem to keep up with it much at all anymore), you know that I am so darn-slabbit sick of driving on dad-blasted freeways that I am liable to start saying much worse words than these if I have to continue doing it without a break.
* Oh, but at the same time, I can’t tell you how happy I am that these girls that I love so much are at this little school that we love so much. How they have grown. I don’t think I’ve enjoyed anything this far in my experience of being a parent as much as I enjoyed seeing my daughters and their friends in the production of “Pirates of Penzance” a few weeks ago. Well, that and watching my daughter who has always hated reading absolutely come alive while reading things like Augustine’s “City of God” and somebody-else’s-I-have-no-idea-who-really’s “Beowulf.” The almost-last school event of this year was last night with the spring choir concert and the only thing left is graduation next week for the five wonderful seniors that I am really going to miss seeing around next year. In fact, I’m quite emotional about it all.
* I really don’t do very well talking theology and all, but that doesn’t mean that the thoughts aren’t up there, swirling around, all the time, all the time. I’m very grateful for our church and my dear husband who talks with me about all my swirly thoughts whenever, wherever.
* Life’s pretty good. I’m enjoying living it.
I’ve been tired.
In fact, I’ve been slowly sinking into the mire.
And now I’m mired.
I need some time off. I know I’m a little late to this season of lent, but for what it’s worth, I am going to observe the rest of it. I think I’ve been allowing it to observe me without being willing to put a name to it. I’ve been calling it things like depression and being down on myself and wanting to retreat and not share anything with anyone ever again, especially not here. But yesterday I was reminded of hope. Of the hope we have in Jesus. The hope of eternity. The hope of Heaven. The hope of this aching, dying body that I inhabit being made new and the hope of these aching, pain-filled, disjointed relationships that I’m in truly coming together as one as we joyfully walk down the aisle to meet our groom face to face. And this time now, this season of lent, this season where I’m reminded of how Jesus himself retreated to the desert and fasted and prayed for forty days, is an appropriately somber season.
So I have decided to allow myself to be somber. I have decided to take what’s left of winter and reflect. The trees are still bare, the air is still chilly, today is even gray and rainy and quiet and beautiful. A good day for prayer and reflection. I’ve been thinking I need to take some time off from blogging to work on my self-esteem. But the reality is that my self-esteem does not need to be worked on. It is good to remember that I am a sinner. And I hate it. Hate it. Am not liking myself at all these days. But I think I need to take some time off from blogging not to feel better about myself, but to give myself the freedom to retreat. To not worry about what others think. To not feel the pressure to think profoundly. To surrender. And to surrender alone.
I wonder if anyone’s ever given up blogging for lent before? And I wonder if anyone’s ever been lame enough to only observe the last two weeks of lent instead of the full forty days? I’m okay with being lame though. It will just make the new season even sweeter. At the end of the somberness will be great rejoicing. Jesus died for this sin that I seem to be mired in. He took it all. And he didn’t stay dead. That’s where my hope is. My hope is in new life. The trees will begin to blossom and maybe, just maybe, my heart will blossom too. We plan on feasting on lamb at midnight Easter day in our home.
Until then, I am retreating. I am not writing about any of the million things that are on my mind. I hope to surrender the million things to God instead. And I hope to feel pain and shed many tears. And when the new season comes, maybe, just maybe I’ll be back.
See you in the spring.