My Crown


Dear Eugene,

How much of myself do I have to lose before I can see God again?

Sometimes I feel like I don't know Him at all.  And if I did once know Him, I have effectively unlearned what I once knew about Him one smile of confidence at a time, cover-up to not let on that I am just a hollow man.

How much bullshit is this God going to take from me before He points out the obvious, that I am not that sincere in pursuing Him, not that serious about life, and most of all, full of self-deceptions that I will forever rely on to sway my body this way and that to wiggle out of situations and crawl through life?

I am all for His giving and forgiving, giving me so much and asking so little of me, now so little of me I am willing to give, not just for Him, but for anything, other than excuses, loads of them, which truly showcase my creative resourcefulness.  God gives me a tongue and I use it mostly to lie.

Eugene, you know, it doesn't take too much to rattle me.  That says a lot about me.  Maybe too much.  I rattle too much a lot.  The rain is heavy now, and I don't like it.  I want to see through it and accept it but I can't.  I have a good roof over my head but I complain like a homeless.  And I don't even know a homeless person.  Not one.  Not care enough to know one.  Body too clean mind too clear to touch one.  Everybody I know has a home.  I already know which restaurant I am going to meet my friends next week.  Food is not our problem.  Fat is.

Everything above I wrote before I went to bed last night.  This morning I woke to a dream, something about me in school, getting a good grade, measuring up, and my final line, my Alright-Mr. DeMille-I'm-Ready-for-My-Close-up was It's fair.  Well, it's not.  The world has never been a fair place.  The scale is tilting heavily to my favor and my idea of fairness is to eliminate all possibilities of a balance restored.  Force is needed.  May the force be with me.

It sucks to end with a sour note.  I am glad to say this morning when I walked up the hill there was sweet melody, newness in the air.  For a very brief moment I was spoken for, even my vainglory.  You give me that and I will take that too, I heard.

That's what I thought I heard.

Yours, Alex

Comments

  1. KateOctober 30, 2018 at 5:51 AM

    Dear Eugene,

    “The rain is heavy now, and I don’t like it. I want to see through it and accept it but I can’t… Body too clean mind too clear to touch…”

    This New Year came with the biggest loss for my families & me: a 2-day funeral for my mother-in-law. This Spring I lost the chance to move up at work & I have yet to get over it. Last Monday you left but write I must to keep you in me.

    The volley of losses does not pause. Last week a colleague dear to many hearts clicked “send” to pass words on screens, saying goodbye when least expected. Rattled, I planned for something expected & less rattling: a farewell group dinner last night. But a meal would not silence the rattling of loss. I asked the waitress to take a photo for us as if our faces, smiling to be paralyzed in pixels, could speak to cancel the loss when I sent the image on screens expected.

    By now in the heart of Autumn, most of the year & my life are lost. Lately I saw on roads close to home more carcasses of deer & raccoons. My teen kid had gone with her friends to a haunted house last weekend, losing my cash to gain Halloween thrills over costumed bodies in sway this way & that, wiggling & crawling, reveling in darkness.

    Eugene, you know... too much I rattle over things too tiny to be rattled by. At 3 this morn, I lost sleep & hopped on a scale, a habit of self weighing at the start of day. I see the scale has tilted grossly to my favor but I keep moaning over the unfairness of losses for me. It rarely rains here but it did for the past 3 days. I dread the thought of being cold-wet under my umbrella or the sunroof of my heated car. Under more roofs at work & home I keep grumbling like one without work or home. On the road 2 days past, I saw evergreens with limbs that held onto the rain from a man sleeping below. What could be more obscene?

    “How much of myself do I have to lose before I can see God again?”

    God gives me a heart & I guard it against losing at all costs. The tongue given for me is used to spit. He grants me a mind & legs to roam & give but I stay in a corner alone.

    It’s dark & raining out there now before sunrise. I hear no sweet melody & I have no hill to walk up. But my dog needs to get out & so do I. In the morning rain, I better listen before I drown in my own spit.

    Yours, Kate

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