Ah, today I write from the perspective of fatigue, so let the reader beware. Last night, my mind betrayed me, and sleep would not come, despite all of my tricks. I could not find the off switch, and life’s cares swirled (dizzy) and zoomed, trailing off into the darkness like so many Roman candle balls, while the clock…
Oh. Three hours of sleep at last came, but it is not enough from where I wander today. I am too old for this, or so they say, and they always know, don’t they?
Yesterday, I preached to a beloved friend, who resides in the proverbial choir, and (thankfully) today my sermon spoke to me, as is often the case. Here are some of my sermon notes:
My deceitful heart spews feelings, and for many years, these swirled around me as the cloud I walked in, defining my reality. But they lied. As I told my friend, one thing I can faithfully do, is to stand on what I know instead of what I feel. Phony feelings are but a leaky tub in a storm. The solid ground under the umbrella is the Truth.
As Mother Teresa once said, “We are not called to be successful. We are called to be faithful.” Despite my perfectionist view of success, this, I can do: put one foot in front of the other.
My husband of many years slept peacefully beside me last night. The gentle rise and fall of the ribs-from-which-I-sprung were beautiful to me in the semi-darkness, but not always so. One of the things my conniving feelings tell me from time to time is that everything is his fault. How can one man cause so much trouble?
He can’t, of course, and these are some of the truths I practice remembering, when I need a root to grab hold of to keep myself from sliding too far towards the muck pit:
- I desperately love this precious man, and at one point in my life, I thought it was a grand idea to marry him.
- It WAS a grand idea to marry him.
- When I said, “I do,” it was for better and for worse.
- Not everything is for-worse, no matter how badly I want to believe it and blame him. I need to focus on for-better.
- We are partners, not opponents.
- We must agree to agree.
- His side of things is his side. My side is my side. I can only do something about my side.
- It is not legal to hold a grudge against him, dad-gummit.
- If I am ordered to love even my enemies, can I not love him, no matter what?
- It’s supposed to be hard. The hard is what makes it great.
Never again for me, the muck pit. I fight to continue walking in the miracle of life and liberty, because for one, it’s worth it. After all, my beautiful, young mother and sister rest beneath the cedar tree in Myrtle Cemetery—victims, in a sense, of their feelings.
So, get behind me, feelings. I will remember this day, and all others, with a tongue in my cheek, and a spring in my step.
The friend-to-whom-I-preached quoted me a beautiful Nigerian proverb:
“Ile-oko, ile-eko ni.”
(Thank you, dear Siyan.) The English translation is:
Marriage is a school, indeed!
How true. And I intend to do the unthinkable in this culture: I intend to graduate. And I think Mother Teresa would be proud.
One of my goals in this blog has been brevity. Forgive my departure.