the catch of the day
The snow is finally all melted. Annie and I are both glad. I can't speak from experience, but it must be quite tedious to have to walk bare-pawed in the snow in order to pee or poop.
After considering how much stuff I own, and how little of it I would actually miss if it were all to be destroyed somehow, I have decided to start paring down. I have a stack of books that are for sale on Amazon, and several more stacks that aren't worth selling. I need to find a sturdy box so I can donate them to the library.
I am hosting a clothing swap in a few weeks, and I hope to get rid of a lot of my clothes. Anything that is left over will be taken to a local charity and donated.
If I have to ask myself, "Where on EARTH can I put this?", I should probably just get rid of it. Easier to keep things clean that way.
Today we went to a local church. I don't normally go to church on Sundays. There are a myriad of reasons for this, but mainly it's because church feels fake and stupid to me.
A man spoke today though, and what he said really affected me.
I think I've had a problem with the idea of God lately. Trying to accept that there is so much evil and brokenness and pain and destruction in the world around me, and yet there is this Being in control of all of it. Sometimes it just feels too heavy; there are too many things wrong to reconcile what I see around me with what I believe God must be. I don't like most Christians, I don't like what I see of religion and spirituality around me.
The man that spoke today walked slowly, unsteadily towards the microphone. He sat on a stool. A young man adjusted the microphone for him once, twice. His speech was hesitating, slow; his hands trembled, he raked his fingers through his hair again and again. His eyes were wide. I assumed he had some sort of disability.
His story was just... it was something.
At age 51, he lost his job. Two years later, his son was taken to the emergency room. He pleaded with God, Please, let my son live; if you let him live, I will work with teenagers, I will minister to others.
His son died.
His mother died the same year. He was diagnosed with Parkinsons, which was later changed to a diagnosis of Lyme disease, which was later changed again to some neural disease. He was unemployed and uninsurable. His father died.
And I thought-- THIS is the thing that I can't reconcile with. How can God not answer this man's prayers? How can God not heal him? WHAT could God's "master plan" be, letting all of these things happen?
But the speaker didn't ask those questions. Or maybe he did. But clearly he didn't linger there.
The point to his story was that through it all, God was there for him. He stood on a Rock, and the Rock was solid beneath his feet. God was good. There is the "promise of eternity," which has always sounded like a hollow, silly thing. But the earnestness on this man's face, his absolute certainty, the simplicity of his faith. It wasn't hollow or silly coming from him. It was his reality. It was where he found comfort and peace, in spite of all his circumstances.
I don't know what to do with what I saw today in church.
Blog about it, I suppose.
And then check my Amazon account to see if my books are selling...
I am selling random things on eBay as well, jewelry and knick knacks that've been given to me. Junk, really, that might fetch a pretty penny?
We shall see.