As the civilized world moves further away with each new day, my willingness to write about the things I consider most important has begun to wain. Intellectually, I know this is exactly when it’s time to double down. But I am deeply discouraged. The tipping point came last week after a conversation left me stunned. With two days of resignation behind me, I’ve accepted that I may not have any close friends to hang out with who are also trying their best to look to the things above or make a consistent effort to view this world from an eternal perspective. I’m talking about people who pray and act based upon a belief and a trust in His infinite knowledge, His presence, His power, and His love. And who don’t try to figure everything out on their own by taking on “fix him, or her, or them” projects that only miss the mark and, instead of healing hearts, drive poison darts into already open wounds. The idea of not sharing life in this way makes me sad. Of course, there’s always my husband who offers more than enough in this area.
I guess this is what we do, this driving toward results with our self-righteous and superior attitudes. Most of the time it’s what I do, even without realizing it. But right now I’m defeated. Ironically, feeling defeated has been a good thing: a very good thing. I’ve given up the fight, I’ve surrendered, and I’ve become quiet enough, long enough, to taste the flavor of a different kind of somber. A more soulful somber that doesn’t care much for the projects that were once so important to my agenda, or the dreams that gave me a reason to jump out of bed in the morning and hit the keyboard.
No, it’s not a sad sort of thing. It’s a sorting out sort of thing. It’s a kind of somber that makes room for the Spirit to take the floor and recalibrate my focus, reminding me all the while that He’s working. His grace flows, giving power and energy for the work He has set beside my bed. I awaken and swing my feet to the floor, stepping into the work He has placed there for me to do; work only for that day. I suddenly know it could be like this indefinitely, just Him and me quiet and anonymous, going about His business. And that’s all I should expect. And all that will most fully satisfy my soul.
I’m like most people. I don’t like being misunderstood and judged unfairly, but it seems we’ve devolved into a hair-trigger state of reactionary accusations, judgements, and group contempt for one another, at least right now. The constant calling out of the differences among us will victimize us all, leaving us divided and afraid of those who would better be our close companions and friends. It’s like cliques gone mad. It’s so human, and it’s so sickening. I’ve taken to finding solace in a glass of red while watching Frasier (brilliant writing). But that only helps me for a moment. It doesn’t do anything to inject love into the outer stratosphere of my tiny existence.
So here goes.
I love you.
 This also includes tough love for any of you who mistakenly believe I’ve become a sloppy pushover.