Where have I been for the last month….
The sun rose and the sun set.
The inn was full and Christ was born.
The moon rose and the moon died.
The shepherds visited and the Innocent perished.
The Magi made a clandestine visit and we listened for the drummer.
Then you realized your rainbow was full of demons….
I’ve been doing the “dry” January, which has turned out to be a semi-arid environment with the occasional shower. It has been good and I have dropped more than a few pounds. It is good.
I’ve been reading more than usual, but when you have a 1,200 page book, it takes more than a few days to get through it. Yes… The Stand. There truly is not a more remarkable book outside of the Good Book. And whether he admits it or not, S. King knows more about God, the devil, Holy Scripture, and everything else in between than most of us folks who run around in fancy robes (or skinny jeans) on Sunday mornings. You can’t paint the picture unless you’ve seen the original…. no what I mean? Yes. Yes you do.
The Priest work is going well. It is good to hide behind my robes, but I’m guessing most can see the hypocrite in the shadows. It is the reason for the failure. My friend Brennan ( what a great name) says that Jesus comes along side each of us and says, I know your whole life story. I know every skeleton in your closet. I know every moment of sin, shame, dishonesty and degraded love that has darkened your past. Right now I know your shallow faith, your feeble prayer life, your inconsistent discipleship.
Funny I can never remember the rest of it.
I should just go to sleep now and wake up…. later.
Life is good. Yes it is.
Ah… The Queen. Her Majesty is a Royal…. um… yes… Hinney! LOL. She has her moments, but it is a delight to come home from the day and find her waiting for the scrub under the chin. She is Rain, but she lives into her “title”.
There are many thoughts and so many things to say, but they seem to wander off on their own and find other places to germinate….
Do you ever just not want to go to bed because it is the first time in many days that you have the opportunity to think, write, paint, dance, listen, etc.? There are days that this is the way we roll around here. I’ll stay up too late and listen to tunes, paint goofy pictures, think of writing, pray (yes, I do that), wonder who I would be if I let go of control, and then sleep…
…. No more—and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep—
To sleep—perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of disprized love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death
The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
… but still………… let’s stay awake for another hour or so.