[Yesterday: 3.5 miles]
Wow. We had a whirlwind weekend. We had both of our children here on a couple of occasions. And my parents were here for a little bit. It was the majority of the people I care for most in the world. I just like to see them talk to each other and be together.
And then they all went home. And now our house is empty again except for the annoying cats and the doofus dog and the same old face-in-the-mirror guy who isn’t looking any better as the years go by.
It’s times like these when I don’t really like our house and I don’t like Mississippi and I’d rather be doing a different job somewhere else completely.
The decisions a person makes tend to stack up. Not like I have reason to complain, etc. So I’m here in Mississippi and I live in this house and the cats are the cats and the dog is the dog.
My personality is such that I usually tend toward nostalgia in such situations. That if I could move back to Estes Park, or even back to Iowa, life would be somehow improved. Our sermon this past Sunday shot that down: Ecclesiastes 7:10. The problem with a person’s life (everyone’s, not just mine) is that the person in the center (me) is imperfect, not able to say the right things or do the right things in regards to others. Even when the circle is drawn very small, i.e. if I lived on a desert island all by myself, it would still be a mess in some way.
I’ll snap out of it in a day or two. We had a great weekend!
4 replies on “Post-visit blues”
As a believer, one thing in your favor is that mortality is simply temporary and you’ll have billions of billions of years in heaven. And in heaven you don’t have to sleep 1/3rd of your time. 50% more active time than as a mortal on earth for any given period. So, as a matter of scale, it doesn’t really matter where you live now – it’s such an insignificant fraction of your total allotted time.
If you live scale these billions of heaven years to 100 years on earth, your awake mortal time component is the time it takes to change the TV channel one station using the remote (more or less).
What you say is true. And my discomforts are not only small in duration but negligible in comparison with the trials of others.
Judging by the vicissitudes of my mood, my faith in the future is very fickle.
Don’t fret – eternity will be here before you know it. We are all on our way to the gift shop and the ceiling lights are flashing. Doors are closing soon.
(For the non-believers there may be intensity in living in the now. This includes me, FWIW. I feel as though geographically I live in the best placed on earth. That may sound arrogant. Clean air. Redwoods and palms. Mild weather, terrific neighbors, egrets and sea lions and otters and shore birds and swallows (and crows and turkeys and geese – not so wonderful) seen in the backyard or dooryard.)
Congrats on the boy. From what I gather, the _only_college graduate in the bunch. I hope he’s iconoclastic.
You both make good points. Mortality hasn’t really affected our family in the way it has so many others. When I think of how long our grandparents were available to us and how all Mom’s siblings are still around – and in good health! – I find it pretty amazing. I’ve taken for granted that special blessing over the years, but now am thankful for every day without a broken arm.
Out of a dozen aunts/uncles, Mike has one left. He’s outlived both parents and a brother by a decade. I think that situation may be typical for many people.
A few weeks ago, when we were starting our process to buy the farm, we decided to do a will so the kids won’t have a mess to contend with someday. Mike texted them all to see what personal property they would each like to have. They listed a few sentimental items and indicated they didn’t like thinking about it.
I guess that’s kind of how I feel every time the folks send out one of their updated property listings to us so we’re all prepared for the inevitable.
I’m so glad you had a great weekend! And, as a believer, the best really is yet to come. 🙂