…that I have friends who give me a nudge in the ribs when I haven’t blogged in a while. That means you guys…Ms K and Mrs H!
SO…given that insomnia is keeping me from the Land-o-Nod this morning, it’s time to write, lest the nudges of my friends poke deeper into these ribs-o-mine.
My days are a mix of good, meh and bad. Some days are a mix of both or even all three. Such is sarcoidosis. My main complaints are intermittant sortness of air, sore joints, sarc zonk and brain fog. Sometimes I wonder if maybe, just maybe, John Calvin or Jonathan Edwards were right and God is punishing me for some thing or some ill-living I may have induged in when I was a much younger man. However, I know deep in my soul and deep in my bones (My soul’s bones?!?) that God is good and loving and God wouldn’t do that sort of thing to one of God’s creations.
I preached last Sunday. The lesson was the “priestly prayer” from the end of the Farewell Discourses in John. Tough reading…hard to undertand..it’s like reading Paul…long sentences, too many commas, that sort of thing. In my head I had four or five different directions the sermon could have gone and as I stepped up into the pulpit I was praying, “God, make these lips move…” I ended up really stretching things into a sermon about sacraments and discipleship. It didn’t help that we had a supply celebrant (a very cool retired ELCA pastor) and I didn’t want to sound like some nut job. That’s the way it is with preaching…some Gospel lessons make the preacher think “Oh…I can’t wait!” and others make the preacher think “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?!?”
Given that I am not a ‘strong advocate’ for myself, I have given my dear Dawn DPOA powers. She knows the system and what buttons to push and I trust her implicitly. Some days I feel like I just don’t measure up…that she deserves a hail, hearty and healthy husband rather than a sick ornery bearded dude who can’t do squat for her. Love is strange..despite the fact that I can’t do a whole lot anymore, I’d walk through fire for Dawn cuz I really want to see her happy with what’s left of me.
Sitting here at ‘0-dark-thirty’ with a cuppa in my hand and a sheltie curled up next to me, I’m reminded that there are no guarantees in life and that we really ought not take too many things for granted. Sometimes I wake up scared to death of nothing I can really place my finger on. There’s nothing worse than nebulous fear that has no name, at least to me. It’s times like that when I thank God that I have no desire to drink. AA has taught me that I do have a choice. Today I choose not to take that first drink. For that I am grateful!