I cannot express to you how much being generally unable to access the internet after 8pm or so affects my ability to post.
I mentioned before that my "office" has been given over to a playroom (which is really more of a toy storage room and now cat supply room, since the boys don't ever play in there and we have two new cats. Oh, yes) and now the computer is sitting in a corner of our bedroom. Born Dancin's crib is also in the bedroom, so after she's sleeping, I'm out.
It's also surprising how lazy I am--well, surprising to me, anyway. I could access the internet from my laptop, but that requires (a) me unplugging the wires to the DSL box, (b) carrying it to the living room, and (c)re-plugging everything in. It's a laborious process that can take up to five minutes on a bad evening. Yet somehow it seems hard to do (not to mention the fact that I have to put it all away again when I'm done). Setting up the folding table, laying out the machine, and getting everything properly attached to everything else is just too hard.
All this points to a bigger issue: I'm congenitally unable to use small blocks of time. I don't even start a project unless I have a couple of hours to devote to it, free from all other interruption. If I have four hours of grading to do, I don't start it unless I actually have four free hours, which is almost never.
This is madness, I know. I'm trying to break myself of that thought process, using ten and fifteen minutes when they're available. That's why I'm posting this hasty and rambling and dull post now, while I've got a moment or two before heading home. Cramming in whatever I could worked for my "novel-in-a-month" project, mainly because I was concentrated on the results rather than the process. Maybe I could employ a similar system.
Isn't this fascinating? I'm going through one of my endless crises of conscience and focus, trying to figure out how to live life in such a way that I don't feel guilty all the time. I'd love to go to bed some night feeling happy and content about what I'd accomplished that day. To be a good teacher, and to write, and to be a good husband, and to be a good father, and to be a good homeowner, and to be a good servant to Christ... How to manage all these simultaneously is a seeming impossibility. Only He can show me how to get it all done.
I hope I get a few clues soon. I don't want to drown.
3 comments:
Hey Michael,
Know that I am praying in very specific ways for you. I would give anything to just sit and listen to you pour out your heart right now, and then talk to God together about it. It's hard to be far away when someone you love is hurting--and you are hurting and I love you.
This is not advice--it's just info, in case you want some. I think we come from a long line of "just get your act together" kind of people. Thought I would let you know I have given up--on trying to get it together, or even having an act. I now live in the sobbingest, most unknown space inside me that I ever have. But I like it a lot. It's both really dark in here and really light, like Jesus-light so bright sometimes that I burst into tears over the goodness of it.
But there are still days I consider climbing out of where my heart lives now because it feels so darn hard. But I have asked Him not to let me do that, and to peel my fingers back from the edges of the walls when I try to climb out and over. And sometimes I get mad when He does, but ultimately I am so grateful; then I cry again.
I don't know that a word of this makes sense. I just miss you so much right now and wish I had some great way to encourage or comfort you, without telling you that everything is okay, because it isn't. Your life needs change, as does mine, as does everyone who says they want Jesus first.
I'm done, 'cause all I really want to do is hang with you and talk with you, and that doesn't happen in here. But I can tell you I love you, and that my heart is broken with the level of longing you have for Jesus to be more real in the everyday moments of your life. He's above the waves, calling you. The waves won't leave--don't spend time trying to smooth the water. He's not under the water, pulling you down. He is above, walking toward you, calling you. Keep walking, not swimming, not drowning. He is there, I promise!
You live in my heart, little brother,
big sister
Hm... unable to use small blocks of time, feel guilty all the time... Wow, story of my life. Really. I think guilt is the Devil's 2nd-most tool against me (next to fear of failure). And it's such a vicious cycle--guilt paralyzes me, and then I feel guilty for being paralyzed. And on it goes.
Lady Skaggs,
Not much to add to your comment except (1) it's nice to know I'm not alone, and (2) I'm so pleased to have you reading and commenting. Thanks!
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