Down Time

Word of the Post
Today's word is: morose
/mo*rose"/ adjective
Sullen, austere, of a sour temper. Ill humored, gloomy, gruff.
An illness or depression can lead to a morose affect.
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I have a tendency to be morose. In the moment, I don't think about others, or even the future, just about me and the now. I don't play chess very well, because I don't think on the strategy of the thing. Not that I couldn't learn, but that I have not bothered to. I spend a lot of time alone, and that doesn't help.

I am a perfectionist, so I like to complete each task to the highest standard. I am also a procrastinator, so if it can be done later, I ignore it now. The fall happens when I want to do something perfectly, and I know I cannot. The job never gets off the ground. I am by no means lazy, just cluttered. And I have lost my joy.

They say you will never forget your first love, no matter how many others you encounter in your lifetime. The First is always the love of youth, passion and the forgiveness of modified memories. Being a Christian, the goal is to remember that God is the First Love, and everything else is just secondary.

Lisa (the one with the Perspective) said that she lost herself in her attention to others. I have lost myself in the attention to me. Odd as that sounds, it is true. I have paid so much attention to me, that I have neglected the God and His people that I needed to be loving. I have done only things that make me happy, and somehow came out of the forest wondering where the trees were; I am less happy than ever.

It strikes me that I cannot be the person I so desire to be. I cannot be the faithful Hannah, giving up her first son to God. "Sorry, God, the church won't function as an orphanage." I cannot be so unselfish. I am a selfish human, and I am stuck in my pride on that matter. I want a child! I have done nothing to show that I would be faithful in raising a child. I have, in fact, done nothing but complain that I didn't have what I wanted. Any mother will tell you that complaining and pitching the fit won't get you anywhere. God uses the parental analogies all the time. He is our Father. He hears every thought in our hearts. And I have done nothing but be a pitiful child.

I have decided that I need to sit. Be still. Be patient. Be prayerful. Be busy working and not so busy complaining. God doesn't always grant a request immediately. Sometimes the answer is "No". I don't want God to just give me a child. (Basket on the doorstep is so cliche') So, what do I want? The sad truth is that it does not matter what I want. I am a mere human, who does not understand the ways of God. While He promises to give me the desires of my heart, he also promises that life and ministry will be a challenge. This is not to say that I don't matter to God, because each of us does, but to say that the will of this tiny speck may be in conflict with the plans of the God of the Universe.

In a recent lesson, Curt Niccum said that God doesn't mind when we ask questions, and even when we yell a bit. He wants to know what we think, how we are feeling, and that we are willing to use Him as our shoulder. It all should come back to God. We get our life and every thing we have from Him, and we also get our comfort from Him.

Job was in misery, sitting in ashes and sackcloth. His friends showed up and, for the first few days, did exactly the right thing. They sat quietly with Job in the ashes. It is when they opened their mouths that the trouble started.

Granny had a poem above her sink, and I need to remember it. I would give the author's name if I had it. Until I find an author, I will attribute it to "Anonymous" (who has written and said many more profound things than any other thinker, alive or dead).

Thank God for dirty dishes,
They have a tale to tell.
While others may go hungry,
We're eating very well.
With Health and Home and Happiness
I shouldn't want to fuss;
For, by the stack of evidence,
God's been good to us!

I need to get back to work. Laundry and Dishes await. The multipurpose sink is in need of my attention, as well as the prayer life I claim to have.