There’s an anger, a bitterness you perceive is in here somewhere.
Of course, by saying “perceive” I don’t mean to imply that – at face value – your honest assessment isn’t alarmingly accurate.
Actually, most of the fuel for this particular fire
comes from my own woodpile…
and I’m trying my best not to get to the point
where I have to start busting up the furniture.
J. K. R. Nash IV
Every now and then and then again and again, one of you guys get me to thinking about something, or – at the very least – rethinking it.
It was Mandi’s turn that day.
God answers all prayers. All prayers.
Sometimes the answer is “Yes”.
Sometimes the answer is “No.”
Sometimes the answer is not quite apparent. At least, not immediately.
Sometimes the answer hovers somewhere amid those three, meaning there are many, many, many times when the answer is essentially …
“Uhh… dude… you might really wanna think about this one some more.”
When I feel that He has let me down…
I don’t know that I ever have felt He has, really. Never blamed Him for anything that “went wrong”.
Wasn’t His fault, and I can’t see it being His idea, that my uncle kept having strokes, my Mom got way too much cancer for one woman to handle or that my Dad’s heart finally gave out. Once those things had passed, I suffered more than they did, and I just don’t see where God would orchestrate that.
If I can’t see Him doing that to me, then I can’t see blaming Him or holding it against Him.
And if He “allows” them to happen, I have every bit of faith it’s for a reason of far more import.
Well, there was that ONE time, but I refocused and started blaming Bill Buckner at first for that fuck-up back in the ’86 Series.
The Bible says we have to “forgive”, nothing about “forget”. Whoever thought of tacking on the “forget” part of it probably needed a whole lot of forgiveness for something.
Maybe it was Bill Buckner.
Can’t imagine that He would ever have any reason to have Fate go all out of its way one day just to block the horizon in front of me.
He just has too much invested in me already
Why would He want to fuck with me?
We all have those Fateful moments in the sense that nothing is the same after that.
I’ve had my share. You might have read some of the stories, but I’m talking about five, maybe ten seconds of your life…
… and you’ve got this spider-shaped crack on the windshield protecting you from Life.
It spreads out on your horizon, from one vein to a second and third, which each spread out into two and three more, and so on and on and on.
Sometimes you have one of the branches of one of those Fateful Moments cross paths with one of the branches of one of the other Fateful Moments …
And the possibilities are endless.
But you want to get all those qualities and those strengths and those smiles, those things you learned… you want to get them in some sort of balance with those Fateful moments that have terrified you from the past.
Looks good on paper, but so did the Bill of Rights.
I think God set Fate in motion on a very structured, logical path of Causality, and the only one who is a Game Changer in this one is whichever of us is in the spotlight at the time.
And we’re the ones who kept Fate going in whatever directions we did, although we had some company along the way that kicked in (or kicked us) every now and then.
God set in motion a series of infinite possibilities for us to learn from, to laugh over, to cry through…
myself, I figure He’s too entertained to step in the way.
But I sure don’t figure He’s gonna fuck with us for shits and giggles (or for Him, I would suppose it would be doves and quails and hummingbirds and dragonflies and butterflies).
He won’t let you get so badly hurt that there’s no way out.
A little farther up those spider-like veins is another vein from a much better vine up from a much richer, much stronger, much more productive branch.
The path you take is your own, and I don’t believe that if we get too close to the edge that He would let us fall over much less push us over.
He loves us that much, sometimes more than we love ourselves.
So you can get mad at yourself all you want and blame yourself all you want and most of the time people are too damned hard on themselves when they do that…
no need to blame yourself for absolutely everything. Nor need to hate yourself for it.
He doesn’t blame you. He’s not angry at you.
He still loves you.
He is still watching over you or you wouldn’t have made it this far, this strong.
Why be mad at Him?
Don’t abandon Him.
He won’t abandon you.
(And I finally forgave Bill Buckner. Granted, it took me till October 27, 2004, but if God had not meant for me to forgive Brother Billy, then He would have stuck me at first in that game instead of Bill and put the weight of Red Sox Nation on MY shoulders for all those years.
(And if He “let that happen”, it was probably so my grandson would be born when the Sawx were the reigning World Series Champions, so you see…?
(Things have a way of working out if you’re as patient with Him as He is with us.)
“Quit feeling sorry for yourself.”
Safe to say we’ve all heard that from the Burning Bush in our lives?
More than once?
Can I have a show of hands?
Okay. You can put your hands down now.
There is one simple question I ask myself when honestly considering the accuracy of such an accusation:
“If I heard the same story as mine – even just a short portion of it –
being told by someone else, no matter what kind thorough asshole they might be
would I feel sorry for them?”
Then I ask myself a second and possibly more important question:
“Why should I cut some other asshole more slack than I cut myself?”
Now “pity” is another story altogether.
If the story I heard from a total stranger involved something of their own doing or thinking or not doing or not thinking, and it could easily have been avoided with a modicum of prudence and foresight …
that would be pitiful.
I would have pity for them, and that is not an either sympathetic or empathetic response on my part. It’s actually somewhat a slap in their face.
If the story I told myself involved something of my own doing or thinking or not doing or not thinking, and it could easily have been avoided with a modicum of prudence and foresight …
that would be equally pitiful.
Doesn’t mean I would have pity for myself.
I’m just not coordinated enough to slap myself in the face and kick myself in the ass at the same time.