A Jonah Day

Sigh. 

In the language of Anne Shirley (of Green Gables fame), a "Jonah Day" refers to a generally bad day, where everything just seems to be going against you.  Those of you who are Biblically literate can see the connection: you know, just a guy trying to mind his own (selfish) business and then interrupted with an unsavory task, which he ran away from, which led to a horrendous storm-tossed sail, which led to his being thrown overboard and swallowed by a giant fish, his sitting in its belly for a long time, then being thrown up on a strange beach, bringing him back to follow through on the unsavory task after all. 

Today seems to be shaping up into a Jonah day for me.  I'm going to complain for a bit here, under the guise of looking forward to heaven.  Because, you know, in heaven there will actually be no more sorrow, no more suffering, no more injustice, no more selfishness, no more regret.  That is so hard to even begin to fathom for me.  

It means, for example, that my right hand, which already begins to feel arthritic, will never ache or suffer from split knuckles in the cold again.  My neck and back, perpetually cricked and tense (especially during the cold, scrunched-up season), will be able to somersault and dance and probably even turn like an owl without the least complaint.  I'll never have to keep up the personal chores I do for the sake of being my most beautiful.  (Actually, I haven't kept up with those for years now, so it will be unthinkably wonderful to just be, just BE beautiful, nothing doing.)  

There will be no poop in heaven.  No poop of any creature, at all, for me to face.  Hallelujah.  

I can sing all I want and not have anybody tell me to stop, that it's too loud.  Dishes.  No more dishes.  I have a feeling that being creative will always be a joy, and never a burden or a frustration.  There will not be cranky toddlers beating on my back begging for my attention while I focus on something else.  For that matter, it seems likely that I'll be able to devote my full attention either to as many things as desired all at once, or else there will be the opportunity to focus entirely on one thing at a time, fully and completely, for always.  I will not crash into things from clumsiness anymore, and there will be no ingredients-flung-about disasters while cooking.  There will never be heartache or loneliness, and I will never Not Understand again--myself, others, my wonderful, mysterious Father God.  I can learn every secret I've ever wondered--and more--about how this incredible creation works.  All the dots will be connected.

I have sometimes wondered how eternal life, the whole system, will be able to function without what we know as Decay.  Because in our system, our broken, beautiful world, everything kind of functions based on the cycle of life and death, Decay.  I can't imagine something different, because that's just how it Is.  But you know what?  I absolutely trust that Elohim, the Creator of the universe, is fully capable of a perfect, Perfect system in heaven, which allows for all things without death.  

Oh, the Joy that will be!

Welcome to Our Porch, Fred

It seems we have acquired a cat.  By order of my husband, a strictly OUTDOOR cat.  

Our boys have named him Fred.

While he spent our entire suppertime meowing at us through the window a couple of nights ago, I had to make a confession to my hubby.  A couple of nights before THAT, I had heard Fred meowing continuously (and piteously) outside our front door late at night, just before going up to bed.   I tried to ignore it, because our last Cat Owner Experience ended with lots of frustration and was sad but a relief.  

But, for heaven's sake, there was a Polar Vortex out there.  So I said, 'OK, God, I don't think I have any cat food downstairs, but if for some reason I never got rid of Green Bean's food, it'll be my sign to feed the cat.' 

There was still cat food in the can.  

Turns out it had gone bad over the past year+, but HAVING cat food was the sign, so I gave the cat what I had: albacore tuna.  In the morning, the tuna was gone, and one little cat footprint was left in the snow beside it for a thank you.  

I kept hearing the cat meowing, but we didn't meet him until that night he sat in the window begging.  And now Fred is very, very glad for company when we go out to say 'hi.'  

And, of course, I bought a fresh bag of cat food.  I am a softie, but I'm not going to feed a cat (and who knows what else) on albacore tuna.  

Welcome to our porch, Fred. 

To Speak of the Things Which Move Me

"AWE-INSPIRING GOD, when I am lost in wonder and lost for words, receive the homage of my silent worship but do not let me be content to bear your mysterious beauty and be still. Go with me in the places where I live and work. Lift the veil of reticence behind which I hide. Give me the courage to speak of the things which move me, with simple and unselfconscious delight. Help me to share my glimpses of glory until others are drawn to your light."

                                                                                                   Jean Mortimer

I am not taking the time to do this today, but I hope that, often, the contents of what I share with you move you toward simple and unselfconscious delight.  Because I intend to show you some of His glories.