It's been a while. January 17 to be exact. Since I wrote anything I mean. I was driving in the car tonight thinking about writing and how much I like it. Or the idea of it anyway. Some days back last year when I was writing an idea would lodge itself in my mine and I couldn't wait to get home and start writing and mostly I didn't really know where I was going with the thought or idea but it just came out. Admittedly none of my writing is all that good but it felt so good to get it out. I was beginning I had something worth some value. (I have lots worth value but this was a new and shiny thing of value). Then I stopped.
Can I be gross? Sure, why not you say. I can say you say 'cause it's my blog. And I'm a boy at heart and this is what goes through my mind. Constipation. I've not been constipated much in my life, thank God. Diarrhea, sure lots. If you eat like I do, well... . I have a great digestive system so being plugged up doesn't happen that often but when it does, MAN! I sit on the pot and wait and wait, grit my teeth and groan and...well, you get the picture. Told you I was gross. So I sit and wait and wait for that magical POP when my intestines let go of what they've for too long held onto. Ok. Enough.
I'm kind of in depression. I think. Really I'm not sure what depression is But I sorta feel bummed out a lot and can't seem to get motivated to do lots. It feels like there's no life in my life which isn't true but it sure feels that way. And I avoid people more than I ought because I don't want to lie, "...Great Shirley, how are you...?" or dump on someone"...don't ask how he is Frank, he'll unload..." so I stay around the fringes. And It's lonely out here. Life is hard and sometimes doesn't turn out like you imagine. You think you can deal with a hard marriage, hard job, mediocre and getting worse health but at some point some of run out of steam and you want to retire to the lazyboy and just melt into history. How I feel some days. I posted once that midlife crisis is realizing that you're not all that, and you don't have the strength or energy to become half of what people think you are. I feel that way. But I am special. I am talented and gifted and have much to offer, for a long time. I hope. I doesn't really matter what people think I guess. Really just matters what my Dad says. He likes me.
So here I sit in front of the keyboard hoping to write something. Sigh. It's been a long time. Lots of times I've sat here over the last months with my fingers (well, just the typing two) poised over the keys waiting for magic words to appear in my mind and I draw blanks. Nothing. Nada. Mind constipation, trying to squeeze something out but all I get are the shakes and sweats. Bummer. And I bought all this mind toilet paper to use. Someday soon......
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Ruined
When I was a child, er... back when I was a much younger child my favorite show was Mr. Rogers. Didn't you love it when the camera panned over the little model neighborhood with it's houses and cars and streets. I used to imagine I lived in one of those houses and it was me who drove one of those little cars. Awesome. I loved the whole show, the coming in and changing the shoes (I wonder which pair he got buried in?) ,the sweater, the land of make believe. I wanted to ride the trolley and had a crush on Lady Aberlin. I thought Bob Dog was the stupidest character ever, Mr. Mcfeely probably drank too much coffee and Handyman Negri was aaallllright. The absolute, can't miss segment though was Picture-picture, you know where he'd put a roll of film behind the picture and we watched as he toured some factory and I was let in on the magic of how things were made. That was so cool and probably the root of my lottery fantasy: Take my winnings and travel the world and see how things are made. After I take care of the poor of course.
Have you ever started a conversation and you're telling a story and you get to a point and you realize you forgot where you were going with it? I think it just happened. Well...poo.
Let's try this... Last year was a really difficult year for me from start to finish with a few highlights here and there.........no. That's not where I was going either.
Ok, so it's a week later now and I may have stumbled into a thought. And it may even fit with the first paragraph. I was in church building this morning with everyone and we were singing this song " Whom Have I But You". Short song that goes like this: (1) Though the mountains fall, fall into the sea , (2) Though my colored dawn, may turn to shades of gray , (3) Though the questions asked, may never be resolved . With the chorus Whom have I but You sung between verses. A really nice song. I wished I believed it.
I was watching a couple of specials on TV this past week on Haiti . Hard to believe It's been a year since the earthquake especially if you look at pictures from then and now. Not much has changed. Still so much devastation and absolute poverty, tent cities and lines of people gathered behind a truck for food and water. I think I heard like 80% of the rubble still needs to be removed. Where is all the money and help that was promised? An easy question to ask and get outraged over but as with many things it's more complicated than it looks on paper. It's a sad, sad situation.
As I was watching the Haiti special and humming the Whom Have I song in the recesses of my brain, the though of the start of this blog wandered into my consciousness and it started to gel. My Dad speaks to me in the frantic whir of my mind. It's like He's juggling a 1000 pieces of a puzzle of my thoughts and He lets a few drop and say's "Here, put those together". I don't know, it sorta works. Then again, maybe I'm just a idiot.
So I live in this miniature model neighborhood not unlike Mr. Rogers'. It looks so real. It smells and feels so real. I like the fact it's nice and tidy and nothing bad happens there. It, for the most part is dependable and comfortable and I could live here forever. And I like that. Yep, a warm and fuzzy world. But it's make believe. As I was singing the words to the song "though the mountains fall, fall into the sea" this morning I thought of Haiti where their Mountains DID fall into the sea and killed so many. Their neighborhood (indeed, there neighbors too) were gone. It's like someone walks into Mr. Rogers studio after his death and tosses his model neighborhood in a dumpster. What was so real is revealed as...make believe.
What has made me smile and also made me grieve is the response of some of the Haitian people. They worshiped God. They thanked Him. They leaned on Him. They said "whom have I but you". I'm sure they were devastated, angry and hurting but in the end, whom have I but you. I pray they do find solace in the arms of their loving God.
Me? I'm not so sure I would. I really do like my make believe neighborhood. My American dream. I would hope I would say "whom have I but you" but it makes me sad that I even ponder this question. I love my Dad but of more value, He loves me. He is gracious and kind and has given me time to work this out which I hope I will continue until the day I walk hand in hand with Him into my new neighborhood, my real neighborhood, with streets of gold.
Have you ever started a conversation and you're telling a story and you get to a point and you realize you forgot where you were going with it? I think it just happened. Well...poo.
Let's try this... Last year was a really difficult year for me from start to finish with a few highlights here and there.........no. That's not where I was going either.
Ok, so it's a week later now and I may have stumbled into a thought. And it may even fit with the first paragraph. I was in church building this morning with everyone and we were singing this song " Whom Have I But You". Short song that goes like this: (1) Though the mountains fall, fall into the sea , (2) Though my colored dawn, may turn to shades of gray , (3) Though the questions asked, may never be resolved . With the chorus Whom have I but You sung between verses. A really nice song. I wished I believed it.
I was watching a couple of specials on TV this past week on Haiti . Hard to believe It's been a year since the earthquake especially if you look at pictures from then and now. Not much has changed. Still so much devastation and absolute poverty, tent cities and lines of people gathered behind a truck for food and water. I think I heard like 80% of the rubble still needs to be removed. Where is all the money and help that was promised? An easy question to ask and get outraged over but as with many things it's more complicated than it looks on paper. It's a sad, sad situation.
As I was watching the Haiti special and humming the Whom Have I song in the recesses of my brain, the though of the start of this blog wandered into my consciousness and it started to gel. My Dad speaks to me in the frantic whir of my mind. It's like He's juggling a 1000 pieces of a puzzle of my thoughts and He lets a few drop and say's "Here, put those together". I don't know, it sorta works. Then again, maybe I'm just a idiot.
So I live in this miniature model neighborhood not unlike Mr. Rogers'. It looks so real. It smells and feels so real. I like the fact it's nice and tidy and nothing bad happens there. It, for the most part is dependable and comfortable and I could live here forever. And I like that. Yep, a warm and fuzzy world. But it's make believe. As I was singing the words to the song "though the mountains fall, fall into the sea" this morning I thought of Haiti where their Mountains DID fall into the sea and killed so many. Their neighborhood (indeed, there neighbors too) were gone. It's like someone walks into Mr. Rogers studio after his death and tosses his model neighborhood in a dumpster. What was so real is revealed as...make believe.
What has made me smile and also made me grieve is the response of some of the Haitian people. They worshiped God. They thanked Him. They leaned on Him. They said "whom have I but you". I'm sure they were devastated, angry and hurting but in the end, whom have I but you. I pray they do find solace in the arms of their loving God.
Me? I'm not so sure I would. I really do like my make believe neighborhood. My American dream. I would hope I would say "whom have I but you" but it makes me sad that I even ponder this question. I love my Dad but of more value, He loves me. He is gracious and kind and has given me time to work this out which I hope I will continue until the day I walk hand in hand with Him into my new neighborhood, my real neighborhood, with streets of gold.
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