Aliens and slurpy sounds. And dish-pan hands.

Well, I fixed the "I am a Vegetarian" link in the last post. It's about Turducken. You want to know about Turducken? Yeah? Are you sure? Then click on the link!

Here's a brand new link for you, from a very dear donor:

Jeff Hipp Loves Klingons. And the Word of God.

(ps. he didn't make it. he just found it. if he'd made it then I'd probably have to kidnap him and keep him in my sock drawer for sheer cuteness/dorkiness. And for his own safety.

...might have to do that anyway.)

Okay, onto serious things. Wellll...I seem to be malingering

(ma·lin·ger
intr.v. ma·lin·gered, ma·lin·ger·ing, ma·lin·gers

To feign illness or other incapacity in order to avoid duty or work.

[From French malingre, sickly.])

with some sort of sub-par psychosomatic, hypochondriac grumbling bug. I woke up this morning and asked myself if I was feeling ill or just lazy. I decided that if I had to ask, I knew the answer. But then my boss told me I looked sick, that I have "fever eyes" (Yikes! Fever Eyes?) and should rest. So they are all enabling me.

For all that I am working and geting lots of stuff done. I've cooked myself up a little mess of shrimp Ramen

(I guess I am not a vegetarian. I am no-warm-blooded-creatures-arian)

and am taking this work-a-day pause to sip Ramen and watch the boxing match inside me. The feelings of luckiness that the trees on my street are turning pink, that the rain has called in sick, that an astonishing array of astonishingly wonderful people care about me, that I have good health insurance and time-shared cats are at war with the snotty-nosed whiny cry-baby feel-sorry-for-myself feelings that have grumbles about work and money and how much I prefer my bed to my desk.

I think I should have brought popcorn instead of Ramen.

What does all this have to do with my spiritual life? Well, it IS my spiritual life, I'm realizing. I often wish I could take the day off to be a good Quaker. Bah.

Lately I've noticed that a lot of the (very relative. suffering is relative.) trials and tribulations I've been going through recently have left me feeling wrung out. It's a weird feeling, not a pleasant one. I'm sort of damp and scrunchy and full of holes. Like...like...

A Sponge.

Only perhaps a bit more square.

Let's try again.

A Sponge.

Hey kids, it's a whole new metaphor for Amanda to flog to death! But really, it's true. Things I've always known, like, Life is Not a Dress Rehearsal, God is in Your Daily Work, Carpe Diem, etc, are slowly seeping in. I've been squeezed, brothers and sisters. I've been twisted and compressed and squashed and drained and left to drip-dry. I know I was holding one heck of a lot of greywater

And now that it's gone, I've been floated on a puddle...a pool...a stream of living water?. Things are seeping in. I'm trying to learn how to make my damp and squishy days into days that still somehow further the purpose of God. I sat in an office, during a pause in dictation this morning, and looked out the window with my Fever Eyes at a tree that has leaves like ferns. I looked at the leaves and watched the wind, and thought about all the students I type recommendations for. Some of their gifts are catalog-able. I thought about all the different gifts I've tried on for size in the past. None of them have fit right. I looked at the tree, and asked idly, "Well, I am not up for any amazing awards or fellowships. What I am here for?" and I knew the answer was love.

Which again, we know. But it's seeping in.

It seems that a big part of my work is learning how to love from my mudpuddles. Learning how to further the cause of love when I feel damp and wrung out and the thought of sopping up anything else makes me tired. Or how to be tender to the people I meet on the days when I am dried out and crusty and molding on the edge of the sink. How to be loving when it rains for ten days, or when I'm staring at the heating bill, or when...whatever. When I have Fever Eyes. When my metaphor is tangled.

And not learning how to love in spite of all of the aches and pains and little moments of misery and wrath that I collect, but how to love IN them, and THROUGH them, and DURING them. Doing anything in spite of anything takes too much energy. Or at least, it's not efficient. I'm not going to stop falling into my little potholes any time soon, so I have to figure out how to be good in the middle of them.


Back to Aliens. I just read The Sparrow, which I can only describe as Sci-Fi with God in it that doesn't suck at all. I enjoyed it very, very, very much. It's fun to read something from this century. Or the 90s. Whatever.

Oh yes, and:
I may be a no-warm-blooded-creatures-arian. But woah. Awesome.
(thanks, Sol!)

This Blog Entry has been brough to you by the Number Ramen and the Letter Diet Coke.