Enter the blogosphere...Facebook, Twitter. There's always someone somewhere to join in commiserating with me. That can be a dangerous thing for some folk, but I've been blessed by some of those folks who encourage with scripture without beating my head in with Strong's Exhaustive Concordance of verses from their 7-pound Family Bible. I'm humbled that a person takes the time to care for someone they've never been physically close enough to to even so much as nod at a four-way stopsign.
It seems odd, to say the least, that we find ourselves spilling our guts to people we've never had the privilege of seeing face to face. It's quite baffling when one finds more understanding, and encouragement via internet access than from a person they've shared years of details in an up-close-and-personal relationship.
How can this happen? Is it true we can't see the forest for the trees?
I never know quite how long to hold a pity party. Occasionally, for me, holding one is what makes life most bearable to deal with an arthritic infested spine, a painful vertebrae, the dreaded day others find joy in remembering Mothers, and the petty disappointments of daily living. Until the last guest leaves (uh, that be me), I tend to wallow in this time and write. I write. I gripe, complain, whine, and consider the bunk stored in an unguarded heart which always seems to surface in my mind when I am at my lowest point emotionally and physically.
Yet, when the tears dry upon my cheeks, and the pity party begins to lose its charm, I rediscover an age-old truth. By some extraordinary twist of providence, only God can make a difference in disappointments. Only He is wise enough to give us the exact person we need at that particular time in our lives to deliver His word of comfort. Only He can fuse the broken spirit, and turn the life-wheels to form a pot worth having from the dust and water of a corrupted earth.
Only through writing, praying, and weighing my thoughts, do I find any purpose for the chaotic friction, fissures, and misunderstandings...if there be any purpose under the sun. There is a time for everything--a time to live, to die, to dance, to not dance, to weep, to laugh. Today is my time to mourn life in general. It's my way of running like Forrest, biking, painting, doing yardwork and purging the closets of my soul. Since today gave way to self-indulgence, perhaps tomorrow will bring the joy. If not, there is always the next day--and the next. For without Hope, without expectation of God's intervention, would there be any sense at all in this world? I think not.