It's the little things...







...that drive me crazy!



Kinda' cool.

As I sit here at the computer in our cluttered dining room, I am bopping along to Miles Davis on the stereo.

Don’t I sound like a jazz expert!

Nothing could be further from the truth. But a guy at work had this CD, and I really liked it. (We could play CDs on our computers while we designed ads for the local auto repair shop and hair salon... not the same place... although, that might be an interesting idea. Get your hair done while you wait for a new set of brake pads! But then, you’d probably have to get an estimate for the hairdo, and you’d always have the sneaking suspicion you were paying three times as much as you really needed to. But then again, maybe you could get a year’s warranty for both.)

Anyway, the CD is “Kind of Blue.” It’s supposed to be a landmark in jazz, or so I heard once on NPR - but again, don’t ask me!

I do feel like I ought to have some shades on though...


It is a steamy day in the middle of May. It has been anything BUT cool the last couple of days. I guess it got up into the hundreds in Minnesota. Yikes!

And it’s clammy.

It feels like there is not enough air to breath.

My computer is sweating.

Miles is sweating!

The kids have been complaining all day to turn on the air conditioning, but, so far, we have held firm. Tonight just may break us.



Well, I am writing just to get one thing off my chest.


IT’S THESE INFERNAL BLISTER PACKS MY MEDICINE COMES IN!!!!!!


It’s a tasty capsule called Neoral, the smell of which has been described as ‘skunky.’ Yum! Actually, I have gotten kind of used to the smell and taste. I almost even like it! There was a time I could barely get them down.

I have to take two every morning, and two every night and - for the life of me -

I poke... I pry... I peel...


AND... I... CAN 'T... GET... THE.. BLASTED... THINGS... OPEN!!!





IT DRIVES ME CRAZY!!!



There.

Thank you.

Next time, I’ll tell you about my amazing, disappearing shoes.









...okay. I usually try to have some sort of spiritual dimension to these things. I couldn’t think of one. Actually, I didn’t care if there WAS one.

And then, as I was sitting here, eating my peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich this steamy afternoon, this picture of Jesus in the tomb came to mind.

Jesus sits up and exclaims, “I’m ALIVE!” He gets up and carefully folds the burial cloth and lays it on the slab where they had laid his body. And then he steps to the stone that covers the tomb...

He pushes... He pries... He pulls...

AND... HE... CAN 'T... GET... THE.. BLASTED... THING... OPEN!!!

“Hello! I have a resurrection to do here!”



I laughed out loud!

Okay, as we say around here, I have blasphemed. I can see the troupe from Monty Python - all dressed up as first century women - ready to stone me to death. But it IS funny! The whole resurrection stymied by a stupid little stone!


But, of course, it didn’t happen that way.

Jesus commanded, and the stone rolled away. The guards dropped to the ground in a deep sleep, and Jesus stepped out of the tomb in a flash of glorious, victorious light.

But that other picture IS funny, and I’ll think of it every time I wrestle with my blasted sealed capsules. And I’ll imagine God sitting beside me with his arm wrapped around my shoulder, sharing a good laugh with me.


And, as I think of it, it has been a rough week for me. NOTHING seems to have gone right. Dumb, stupid little things.

For the life of me, I CAN’T find my shoes.

I borrowed my daughter’s softball visor and lost it - that sin compounded by all my lectures to the kids about borrowing other people’s things and not taking care of them.

It has just been one little thing after the other. But they mount up, like that pile of straws on the camel’s back, weighing me down, each one a little bit more, until it becomes almost overwhelming.

It’s like this great darkness descends. We can’t find ANYTHING in this mess. The kids are all running amuck.

And it seemed to me that all I was contributing to this household was inconvenience, misguidance, and trouble.

To think that over half a million dollars has been spent in cancer treatment just so I can be here to lose my shoes... well... It’s kind of hard to come up with a good come-back to that. “Yeah, well... I can make a pretty good batch of spaghetti!” (and half the kids don’t even like spaghetti!).


But now, when all those little things start piling up, and are beginning to drive me crazy, I can picture Jesus straining against that stone in the tomb - and remember that that’s NOT how it went. Jesus didn’t stay there in the darkness. He burst from the tomb in a blaze of glory.

Jesus triumphed over death. And he is living in me now, in all his power.

What is there that could possibly overcome me now?






Wonderful Things



me
June 5th, 2001





2001 Paul Dallgas-Frey




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