I met Him

I met with Him tonight. Differently than I would have chosen, but still deeply, and much needed. And for that, I'm thankful.

Tired and other Sunday Afternoon Thoughts

I don't exactly understand how I can be nearing the end of three days in a row off of work, three days in which I cared for myself first, three days in which I rested and tried to restore my soul, and still be exhausted. I just don't get it. I even took a nap for an hour or so this afternoon on the couch. I never take naps if I can help it.

I'm going out in a hour or so to hear my brother's choir one last time for the year. They're performing at a church - a nice, big, anonymous church, where I can slip in for the service, sit by myself, and then meet my brother afterwards to get a ride home. It'll be an added bonus if I meet with Jesus in that time. I'd really like to meet with Jesus today. It seems, in some ways, that it has been a long time since I've managed to find myself in the presence of Jesus. It's not exactly true, but I'd like to meet with him to receive simply for me, rather than talking with him about the myriad of others for a bit.

There was a line in a novel I read this afternoon, "you artist types need to stop and refill the well sometimes." I feel like that today. I need Jesus to refill my energy and strength. I'm missing some dear friends, wishing for community nearby, and could just generally use an encounter with the Lord and his peace and rest tonight.

I taught Sunday school this morning. A lesson on Judas' betrayal, and Peter's denial. I'm not sure if my students found the questions the lesson posed to be challenging, but I certainly did, in light of things I've experienced and have been thinking about lately.

I'm actually really tired of teaching, and am counting the number of lessons left before summer, when I'm going to take a break from teaching and from church for a bit. However, I arrived at church this morning to discover that my dad's sermon was on "sexuality" and was extremely glad to be teaching. I've sat through the awkwardness of these sorts of sermons at least once in the past, and have sworn to never sit through my father speaking on said subject again. There are some things you just shouldn't have to endure as a pastor's kid, and listening to your father preach about sex is one of them. (Plus, because I sit with all of the youth kids, I not only have to endure my dad talking about sex, but the stares of all the youth, who are checking to see how awkward and embarrassed I'm feeling at the various comments.)

I'm trying to sort out my calendar for the next while. There are some friends I want to visit, and some commitments I'd like to be involved in. I'm still trying to figure out if I have the mental and emotional energy to be anything other than a hermit who sees only a select few people.

And with that, I'm going back to watching golf on television, to find some supper, and get ready to head out to hear my brother sing.

Sunburnt and Other Things...

Could someone tell me how I managed to spend a month in the Mediterranean in January without getting so much as a tan, and yet, when I spend a few hours outdoors on the first warmish and sunny spring day of the year, I manage to quite nicely sunburn my face and neck.

I watched the movie "Dan in Real Life" this afternoon. I liked it. A happy, family sort of movie. Predictable, but happy. I need some happy in my life these days.

I'm incessantly hungry. Seriously. I've been eating nearly constantly all day.

I bought pork buns in China Town today. I love pork buns. (Did I mention that I've been incessantly hungry today?)

I'm going to see a movie with my baby brother, T., tonight. I'm looking forward to hanging out with him too.

Later.

Miracle

I'm flipping through some papers from a while ago, looking for something I wrote down about 5 years back, and I came across this quote from a favorite novel, "Peace Like a River" by Leif Enger.

Here's the lines...

Let me say something about that word: miracle. For too long it's been used to characterize things or events that, though pleasant, are entirely normal. Peeping chicks at Easter time, spring generally, a clear sunrise after an overcast week - a miracle, people say, as if they've been educated from greeting cards. I'm sorry, but nope. Such things are worth our notice every day of the week, but to call them miracles evaporates the strength of the word.

Real miracles bother people, like strange sudden pains unknown in medical literature. It's true: they rebut every rule all we good citizens take comfort in. Lazarus obeying orders and climbing up out of the grave - now there's a miracle, and you can bet it upset a lot of folks who were standing around at the time. When a person dies, the earth is generally unwilling to cough him back up. A miracle contradicts the will of the earth.

My sister, Swede, who often sees to the nub, offered this: People fear miracles because they fear being changed - though ignoring them will change you also. Swede said another thing, too, and it rang in me like a bell: No miracle happens without a witness. Someone to declare, Here's what I saw. Here's how it went. Make of it what you will.
(Peace Like a River, Leif Enger, pg. 3)

Stopping In

I'm enjoying the second of three full days off in a row. This taking an extra day off work might actually pay off and see me sort of rested for the first time in months when I go back to work on Monday. Crazy!

I'm off to enjoy what may finally be weather that hints of spring by heading to the zoo and to China Town. I love both of those spots.

Then relaxing at home, and out with my brother later tonight.