Disastrous. Hmm, let me Google the definition… Yes.. yes, it fits. I myself am feeling disastrous today. I hate when that happens.
As I returned from dropping off the early-morning-long Bickering Two to daycare (a mostly unusual state for them the past year), I was thinking of how I have lived so long, that I may now be unintrigued with anything but nature.
Opportunity, romance, the arts? *sigh. Birds, chipmunks, the dragonflies? Please!
I’m fairly average — neither good nor bad, just human — and I marvel enough in that alone to think someone thought this mercurial me worth dying for, and not only for, but in place of! Good heavens, why?? Well, it has little to do with me, and almost everything to do with the Father’s preferences. Fortunately, His fiat-d begotten Son thought it Good to exchange His perfect humanity and atonement for my limping attempts to love. To save me and raise me up at last — even eternally! — was His sole vocation? It boggles the mind, especially on a blah day of jaded oldness that already needs a nap.
For two weeks especially, I’ve just wanted to go outside and be with the day out there. “Out there” is the yards, the river, the buzzing and fluttering, the timed timeless. And for two weeks, I’ve only served as usual. Do, do, do, clean, clean, clean, run, run, run, arbitrate, arbitrate, arbitrate, listen, listen, listen, transform, transform, transform, die, die, die. (And maybe swim while the frigid water has its back to me.)
Ah, poor me, eh? I’d better go get some stronger coffee; my ingratitude is surely offensive to the Alpha and Omega. (Talk about disastrous — whew!)