We live in this society where we long to be busy. You want to be busy at your business (duh) and you want to be busy with your social life. On the go, let’s go. Any time, hopefully all the time. I like to be busy too. About my Father’s business. About my own business. I like to be fluid, like water. Moving this way and that. And I don’t like change, though it seems to always be happening.
I kinda feel like, so many of us want these busy lives, and yet, we’re not sure we really want the busyness. Does that make any sense?
Like, we wanna say we lived it because we did, but we don’t actually want to make the effort. We don’t know what we’re doing. Not one bit of an idea. It’s all speculation, educated guesses. But we want to be busy.
Are you picking up what I’m putting down here?
Now that I’m older some times I’ll watch my mom put her makeup on and basically get ready for the day. I took makeup artistry courses, so it’s interesting to see how someone does something compared to how you would do it, yourself. Yes, that’s how you do it, just like that. Or no, well. I would have done that differently. It’s the idea in my brain manifesting itself against what is. Even though what is, isn’t wrong. Understand?
And it gets me thinking. You know we all have a different process of getting where it is we need to go. That’s the human condition.
We’re all working towards IT.
It’s a busy process, regardless of the result.
So go do shit.
Sometimes, people get jealous of your focus. They wish they had it for themselves.
I was thinking recently about identity and how really, all of us know who we are, with certain kinds of people. I know who I am around my parents. I know those kinds of people. I know who I am at work, with my co-workers. I know who I am when I’m with my closest friend. But then there are the spots in between. The cracks I slip through. It gets harder, as you get older, to find “you” with respective peoples. The game keeps changing. Does that make sense?
I wrote a post awhile back last year. I think I talked about how sometimes when you see someone your heart says: oh! there you are.
I’m not sure if my heart made that declaration I would even recognize it. The game has changed. Do you understand?
In society there is this direct correlation between knowing who you are and not knowing who you are. Okay? Like, if you know who you are then you can’t fall short. That’s like the unspoken expectation we’re all going along with.
For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.
I moved out here with so much stuff in my car. Like seriously, if I opened either passenger door there’d be panties galore on the pavement. I don’t have as much clutter in there now, but there’s still a lot. There are some stained shirts I no longer wear, shoes that I still do. There’s a plastic chick my boss got me for Easter. There were earrings inside of it when she gave it to me.
There’s a stuffed dinosaur I got from summer camp. There’s Trivial Pursuit. There’s optical how-to’s and reindeer antlers and possibly more underwear and it’s really just all pieces.
Pieces, of a well lived life.
Stranger things have happened.
I’ve been hearing that over and over again for weeks now.
What if you got all that you hoped, dreamed, and prayed for on a daily basis? Well, stranger things have happened.
And what if you didn’t? Stranger things have happened.
I kind of think Christians and non-Christians alike, let’s call them humans for the sake of argument, reach this place where they sorta peak out. You know the spot. You get there and your eyes get all misty and you just kinda give up. I think sometimes we bring ourselves to that place because, you know and I know that the only thing you will make time for is the thing you make time for.
Radical thinking, I know. Chew on that one.
But really. I also think that sometimes God brings us to a place where we give it all up. The dreams. Not because he is better, though he is. But because if we don’t give up, well, we miss it. I miss it.
I miss the point.
Happiness holds no value or treasured position in your heart if you have not known sadness.
But sometimes. Sometimes, man. You are not sad. You are not happy. You are in a haze. You’re no longer wishing and no longer waiting. You are not a beloved afterthought, but the man’s ever waking thought.
Stranger things have happened.