Skip to main content

Odd Thoughts

I have a confession to make. I am a bit strange. I know, I know, I have a flair for the obvious. I had planned to drive to a big city and do some shopping but my body isn't up to it. That made sort of sad and then I had to find another way to look at it. I never want to be one of those old folks who do not know when to give up their keys. Today my hands are numb and I don't trust myself to drive. It's sort of an answer to prayer for me to be unable to drive because my hands are numb but my mind is not. I am still able to make good choices about the safety of others on the road with me behind the wheel. That is important to me. I don't want to be so mentally compromised that I put myself in the role of executioner by driving. Pity party postponed indefinitely, I hope.

I have to admit I have had the weirdest things pop into my head today. Like what? I am so glad you asked.

Ever notice that there is a correlation between the number of distractions you encounter and your under-estimation of the time necessary to finish a particular project?

If I tell a doctor that I am not comfortable in my body and think I am actually a cetacean trapped in a humanoid body is there a surgery for that? A group I can join? Or would they put me into therapy? Or tell me it's OK, God made me this way on porpoise? (couldn't resist that one, sorry)

Comments

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

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

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.