Wow, November. Raise your hand if this year has been a blur.
Mine are both raised so high it's like I'm praising God.
Maybe I am.
I should be. For the good and hard alike. He's seen us through. Faithful is He...
And this first Thursday (now Friday!) of November brings another Random Journal Link-up. So you have two choices, friends. You can simply scoot over to Dawn's blog and check out the other blogs OR, if you're a journal-er, add a treasure to the trove. There's always room for one more at the table.
My offering this month comes from 2004. As usual when I open one of my blue notebooks, I can't simply stop at the first page I read because I'm plunged back into that time. Kids in high school and middle school meant life was full of activities. And I was just finishing a stint as elder of our church at a very tumultuous time. So now that I've read about a month's worth of entries, I can't remember where I started. So I'll just give you this snippet of thought, nothing overtly spiritual, but a window into me.
April 3, 2004 (one of the two dates--along with the 7th--scholars believe was the actual resurrection of Jesus):
(Ed note: My book list tells me I'd just been re-reading Daisy Miller by Henry James)
There's a commode in our front hallway from the late 1800s. On it sits a tarnished silver dish where Beve puts keys, wallet and other pocket miscellany each evening. Rather than piece of bathroom furniture, I imagine it a fancy table where, a century ago, a woman calling, might leave her embossed calling card in it. The dish would fill and I would feel proud that I was so popular. I am important because so many trussed up women seek my afternoons. See how many guest squeeze into my front parlor? We sit in our lawn dresses and fine hats pinned to piled hair, drinking tea in tiny cups held in long, white-gloved hands. Take delicate bites of rich cakes I had no hand in the making. Sweating on hot days because our clothes make no allowance for weather. I can't imagine a single sentence of conversation I might have have so attired, so besieged by such rigorous societal constraints. There is no possibility of intellectual discourse. I can only see the calling card dish, and the table surely from that age.
A word or two of interaction of any meaning with the opposite sex would be as impossible as not wearing those cumbersome dresses. Like wearing no clothes at all. For all the wealth such a life implies, I would be poorer. So much poorer I cannot grasp how I'd have breathed--in two ways--inside those tight corsets.
I am a creature of my decades. I was born at the right moment. My children might be incredulous, or even laugh, at the world I/we grew up in--no computers, videos, cell-phones, digital cameras, DVDs, all things technological--but I know our lifetime, and theirs as well, has been a whisper.
However, even though there have been more changes in the last hundred years than all the centuries before, when it comes down to it, the biggest change that ever happened in the world happened in a stable. Before I was even a thought anywhere but in God. It wasn't only the WHO I'd be...He was also intentional about the WHEN of my life. I was meant to live now.