Distant heart

It is so nice to skype with them, but it is still so hard to have so much of my heart so far away.

(pardon the so-so-so-so post.  or, if you don't: so what?)

I believe in zombies

They're just not undead.

There was only one catch . . .

"That's some catch, that Catch-22," he observed.

"It's the best there is," Doc Daneeka agreed.

i feel unhappy and discouraged, and i feel like an ungrateful, selfish prick for feeling that way

There is no dark side of the moon, really . . .

. . . matter of fact, it's all dark. - Pink Floyd

My sacrificial life

Fr. Satish's homily resonated with my own recent thoughts about the life to which I am called.  At first, it left me a touch demoralized.  I didn't want to hear the message that yes, indeed, the standard of laying down our lives can be found nowhere except in the cross.  I wanted to protest: surely I get to keep this part, or maybe that part, right?  In the end, this point confirmed this idea that I've been hearing in my own reflections: I am called to live a sacrificial life in the place where I am planted.  Yet it's also clear that I shouldn't receive this truth with disappointment or dismay.  Life will still bring many joys, bright spots that will sustain me.   Yes, there will be pain in the parts of myself I must give up in order to live as I'm called to, but I am not to dwell on that or I will miss the wonder.

And while God may eventually call me to yield all of myself, he has also created all that I am, and loves me.  I am precious to him, as the person I am, and he didn't even call his Son to give up his unique personhood.

A cold and empty well

Sometimes it feels as if there's no room for me, for my strengths and interests and affinities, in my life.

Yet focusing on that feels wrong and selfish, unfruitful and unhealthy.  More importantly, every standard by which I believe I should be living confirms these latter feelings.