Why is the day so foreboding? It is within my own expectations and judgments that gloominess arises. The dogs are truly in the moment: "I am tired, I am hungry, I hear a noise, I see a movement, the one I love is home again." Me, I worry about how the one I love sits morosely, I worry about whether I am doing the right thing to accomplish my mission, I worry that I will grow old and ineffectual before I am done.
I woke today before the alarm went off. I lay in bed looking out at a light grey, almost pearly sky and rejoiced in my breathing, luxuriated in warmth and comfort and thanked God for his gift of those things. But as soon as I got up, I started complaining. My back hurt, there was dog hair on my face, the floor was chilly, my day was too full. Oh, and the world is going to hell in a handbasket, and taking my measly retirement plans along with it.
And yet I have been told that I appear to be a cheery person. I really do look for the positive. So there is a dissonance between the person who is "on duty" for others and the dark poet of my privacy. Who is real? Next Sunday is Easter. Am I a Passion Sunday person, like Mel Gibson, or am I a resurrectionist? Ecclesiastes or Mel Brooks? Know thyself, Bob. And don't evangelize until you are sure of what you believe!
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