It's midnight, Cinderella.
I'm flying to Orlando tomor--well, okay, today. In ten-plus hours. Work conference. I'm looking forward to getting away for a few days. The nine-hours-a-day of panel lectures and workshops aren't laugh-a-minute, but it's essentially a work-reimbursed vacation. I'll get to visit Disney World tomorrow night, and eat at some nice restaurants. That'll be nice.
This week has been busy. There's always a lot to do, and... okay, I'll stop. I imagine it gets old hearing me say the same things every day. Work's busy. I'm tired. Too much to do. Blah blah blah. And each of you lovely readers would say the same things, because my life isn't terribly special. Everybody's got a job that gets stressful and hectic. Everybody could use more rest. So why should I waste your time and mine tell you what you already know?
So here's what's out of the ordinary in my world.
--My family's dealing with (or about to deal with) another bit of disappointment. And I want to be strong, and have faith, and be positive. But the only responses I can muster right now are frustration with the situation and God's elusiveness in it, and the rage I feel toward the unrighteous who cause such things to happen. I want to call on God, like the Psalmist did, to be the defender of my family, but for His own unknown reasons He sees fit to strike us. Since I have a hard time being mad at God, I'm focusing my anger on the person "responsible" for this situation. Not necessarily healthy, or justifiably Christ-like. But that's what it is. It sucks. The whole situation sucks.
--I had a bit of a weird health scare a few weeks ago. After a few days, the issue suddenly resolved, and the doctor didn't have any explanations. I have a referral to go get some follow-up tests done, but I almost don't want to (for fear, ironically, that my insurance won't cover it--as well as the fear of finding out something worse). I know I should just make the appointment, but I'm having a hard time with it. Maybe it's the first real time I've confronted my own mortality. I don't know. The thing is, because of my weight, I can't get life insurance, and if something were to happen to me, I'd leave my family with a mess of debt to clean up. I need to have a plan in place to cover that, until I can get the debt taken care of. And until that plan is in place, I really should be more vigilant about my health.
--Last week, I re-read Romans 12:1, and realized that "presenting your body as a living sacrifice" isn't just some spiritual metaphor. It also actually means, "Treat your body as if it belongs to God." Stewardship, in other words. I'm sure if you had told me this in the past, I would have assented. But it took that last time to really have it sink in--taking care of this body IS worship of God. I want to slap myself in the forehead and say "Duh, Dave." So next week, after I return from the conference, it's back to work. For real, this time. Hold me accountable. And you may say, "Dave, that week is Thanksgiving, and the next month will be filled with holiday treats." I know. But if i wait until the new year, I won't get started. Might as well attack this issue at the most inopportune time, so that it's all downhill from there.
--My spiritual life has its ups and downs. Times of strength and good decisions and feeling confident that I'm growing and maturing, and times of weakness, bad decisions, and constantly feeling like I've gotten nowhere. These last few days have been the latter.
--I'm wearing a collared polo-type shirt. Green, blue and white stripes. One of my favorites to wear to work or church. It has an inkstain. I left a pen in the wash a few weeks ago. Twenty-eight years old, and I still leave pens in the wash. I need a wife, if for no other reason that sometimes I just can't be trusted to function on my own. Okay, yeah, and the whole "love" thing.
--My back hurts. I need a new bed. My mattress and box spring are broken down and should have been retired months ago. Five years. It's been a good run.
--It's 12:20. The dryer timer just went off. Time to see if my clothes need another tumble before the bleach load goes in. Just three more cycles. Then sleep for a few hours before I'm up for my flight. Or I make do with the clothes I've got. We'll see if pragmatism wins out.
Say goodnight, Gracie. ("Goodnight, Gracie.")