No wind for my sails these days, but even still I must note that even a journeyer can find some good in calm water. I say can, not will.
The living doesn’t stop even if the writing does. There’s been garden to dig and a greenhouse to help and beans to snap and asparagus to freeze and books to read and miles to walk and people to call and food to make and parks to visit and church to attend and thrift stores to scrounge and packages to mail and prayers to pray and floors to sweep (but no dishes to do, thanks to my live in dishwasher) and classes to teach.
I’ve been tempted (and at times succumbed) to a spirit of complaint. God calls me out gently but firmly with examples of those who have trusted Him through much worse than a hard-working husband, an unknown future, and a fragile spirit. How trite my struggles when brought alongside those of Irena Sendler or J.J. Jasper,..or a host of others.
I have not yet resisted unto bloodshed.
Not even close.
As for my hard-working husband, Tim hopes to finish his big crunch by the end of this very month, the one that is almost half over. He’s a real trooper, this man I live with; he takes each day as it comes with steady persistence. No mood swings for him! And Pop, too, has been another real trooper, cheerfully taking over as much as he can for Tim and willingly throwing his regularly schedule mealtimes out the window (no small sacrifice). Yes indeed, these two are yet another source of constant conviction to me.
As for my unknown future, I guess we’re all in the same boat, right? The immediate future isn’t ours to know–but eternity is. HOW can I forget that so easily? WHY do I chafe at my portion or its timing, even as I can see that the lines have fallen to me in such incomprehensibly pleasant places?
As for my fragile spirit: I suppose the whole point (or at least one of them) of any trying time is to cut our ties to this earth and (double)knot them to Christ. I have many life-support strings, and most of them aren’t tied to Him. The church, family, friends, a routine, expectations, myself–all good things in their place, but bound to snap when I look to them apart from Christ for security. Snip, snip! It’s a long, slow, painful process…but for the best.
And with that, I’d better go. Just got the homeward bound call from Tim, and he’ll need a nice, hot
wife bowl of soup to welcome him home.