Skip to main content

Drivel

I hate that my time is being eaten away by something so necessary as work. I have often suffered from the delusion that I should be doing something far more important than working. Of course I haven't any skills or abilities that would provide the opportunity to be paid for something other than work. I dabble at a lot of things but I am not really good at any of them. So, despite my attempts at being being paid for having fun, I clock in at a normal job. Alas, it is all part of growing up.

"Personal growth and change are not always easy, but they are essential to true humanness. . . . . Everything alive grows. The difference with human beings is that we grow physically and spiritually." - Ed Welch

I am healing from surgery and unless the doctor found something troubling on the CAT scan, I am imagining he is going to turn me loose on my next appointment. By the way.... if you have never had the dubious pleasure of having a CAT scan with contrast....which is doctor speak for "please make my patient drink a 1/2 gallon of barium that will taste awful and has the viscosity of sludge and then inject her with dye that will make her feel like she has micturated in her pants." By that way, it would be best if they told you that the barium was going to come out looking about the same as it went in... and that it comes knocking at the back door of your intestinal system about 30 minutes after you have ingested it, BEFORE they take 15 minutes of your time to tell you they are finished and you're about to make the 20 minute drive home. Even for the math impaired the trouble should be obvious. Ah! science... where was I? Oh yeah... I think the doctor is going to release me.

There are several bugs going around at work and I have managed to catch them all. I am tired. I am coughing stuff up out of my lungs that might be mistaken for the afore mentioned barium. Perhaps I will have something more valuable to write later.... in which case you should disregard this completely.



.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Spiritual Aphasia aka Senseless Theology

I was recently asked why I read theology and follow theological debates. "It's all just words and opinions." Words. Words on a paper, words on a blog. Words that travel invisibly through our airwaves and our minds. What would our inner monologue consist of without words? Harsh words, gentle words, untrue words, and solid you-can-die-behind them words. They have secret lives in the depths of our souls. They overflow in torrents of grief and joy. They seep out of our character flaws, wearing down the weak convictions that hold them back until they contaminate all those around us. All of us are stained within and without by the raw sewage of unkind words. Our souls are in jeopardy for want of The Word. Jesus Christ. The Gospel. The Good News. Words matter. Doctrine matters. Theology Matters. What you win them with is what you win them to. I study theology because I was lost too long in a world that scrambles truth with its own ideas and preferences. I was fed a diet of tosse
1 comment
Read more

Super Church a song for the Emergent-sy

In the early 70s I was in a youth choir at my church. Our youth pastor was a musician and his way of connecting with us as a group was through the choir and music. Somehow there was an affiliation between him and The Continental Singers, New Hope and Jeremiah People. He was worked with Moishe Rosen of Jews for Jesus too, I think. Are any of these names familiar to you? Though I remember the church fondly I was a profoundly lost and troubled young woman during my years there. That and time have muddled the memories quite a bit. Today I was digging through some old paperwork and one of the books to the musical we did. It's Getting Late For the Great Planet Earth, a folk rock oratorio by Cam Floria. Yes, that's right. Cam Floria put Hal Lindsey to music. There's a lot to laugh about and some to groan about but as I was looking through the songs and remembering, I found this little ditty and I only wish I could sing it for you. Just remember that this is circa 1972 and even th
8 comments
Read more

What if.....

...what if I just need a place to let some words spill out? What if they spill out in bouquets of bright colors and pleasing scents but their frames are made of snakes and lies? Will you the reader be able to tell? Will it matter? When words smell like lilacs and honeysuckle do you care what lies beneath them? Perfumed syllables cover the stench of hope's decay. A violet or two will fool most surface dwellers, allowing them to pass by quickly and unaware.  Is that what words are supposed to do? What if my aesthetics with words are similar to Morticia Addams' with flowers?  What happens when luscious blooms are discarded?  When the ragged silhouette of thorns is all that remains will you still see the beauty?  Perhaps we'll find out.
Post a Comment
Read more