Lovin’ like a Milk Man (or Maid)

(To be noted: the first paragraph of this entry isn’t exactly worth reading)

It is late and I can’t sleep. I have reached the sleepy cooled down state in my body, like a nap hangover. But my brain just won’t be so still. In the morning I always wonder what I would write about. I often look at my journal or consider blogging, but I just can’t think of anything worth saying. For some reason as soon as the sun falls below the horizon my mind often seems to wake up. Not necessarily smarts (debatable if I have any of those at all *wink*), but just thoughts. These deep analytical ponderings are where I attempt to figure out the puzzle of life, death, and Mancala. So here I am once again in that state: Partially asleep hoping I can stop the running train inside. And so I write.

Currently my mouth is numb. I have an unkind canker-sore inside my lip. It hurts, and its ache pulled me from my bed. I used the nasty medicine on it, that bright brown lava goo which you drip on. It burns at first, and then you contort your mouth in odd ways to attempt to keep the stuff from getting all over your tongue and teeth, as anything it touches it numbs. Once I drank from a cup Josh used earlier after he used this medicine. I started freaking out because my mouth was going numb and I didn’t know why. Apparently it is powerful stuff, lingering on anything. This time I didn’t do my typical mouth-dance to keep me from numbing up; I was just going to suck it up. And I am, numb all over. I keep licking the left side of my mouth as I am pretty sure I am drooling there, but I guess it just feels cold, the cold not being my spit. Instead I am drooling right from the center of my mouth. Very attractive. A numb mouth makes for great entertainment. If your easily self-entertained, that is.

On a deeper level, I have been laying in bed itchingly aware of my complacency. In fact, its slightly uncomfortable to acknowledge, but I think I am rather nominal. Since I pride myself as not being as such, or at least not wanting to be nominal, its kinda gross to admit it.

Yesterday I was challenged to fast from the dare I say it? From the love of my taste buds: creamy sweet coffee. I understand fasting as denying something as to prove that you are serious about something else. Hence, if one fasts from food, they are showing God that they are actually serious about what they are asking for (whether its praying for another person, an issue, or just to become closer to God). Of course, there is more to fasting than that, but that is a part of it. I don’t particularly like to fast, and never have. Often I have out of guilt, mainly being I should do so because its spiritually the right thing to do for me to get what I want. Not exactly a great attitude, you see. I don’t ever remember a time where I willingly enjoyed doing so (even if I have enjoyed the results). Generally when the idea of fasting comes up I try to squelch it right away. Its not that I am against it if it is actually necessary. Yet I am always trying to convince myself that it is not necessary. Do you ever do that? Try to convince yourself you can get the same results without a certain amount of effort? Maybe its just human nature, but I am pretty sure I am pretty lazy that way. Just pretty sure. There is a line somewhere between necessary and unneccesary. . . if I can just find where that line is I’ll set up camp there eternally. If I do x y & z I’ll will get whatever. But can I get whatever by doing just x & y? If so, heck ya, I am just going to do x & y! In this case I don’t want the path less traveled. I want to path of least resistance. Which, come to think of it reminds me of some verses about the narrow path is the only one in following Jesus vs. that large road of least resistance which is safe to say does NOT lead to Jesus. Hum.

It is kinda pathetic to me that I won’t willingly jump to do whatever makes God happy. I can barely even get myself to do what He asks me to do. When you are newly in-love you go out of your way to make eachother happy. When you are ‘seasoned’ in marriage you do what is comfortable, which generally means only doing what the other person asks for. But, oh, how much happier is the marriage for both people when you randomly (or always) are going out of your way (yes, serving selflessly) to make the other person happy?! It breathes life into the marriage! Its like vanilla ice-cream-drizzled blueberry pies and butterflies, like glorious sunshiney mornings and rainy cozy day hot-chocolate & popcorn by the fire. Its like singing birdies! Okay. Um. Sort of. Honestly, though, sometimes pulling a hammer out of your derrière is easier than to say “Thank you for doing the dishes.” Why is that? Its not like its hard to say. But sometimes it requires so much gumption to barely tiptoe an inch out of your way to make the other person happy.

God seems to be a romantic. He’s given flowers and sunsets and poems. Yet our relationship does not go both ways. I am still huffing and gruffing to get that sledgehammer out of my backside to make myself make Him happy, and often ignoring His requests to pick up 1% milk from the store for Him. Or whatever it is that God plainly asks of me. You know what I mean? Why do I go back and forth being like “is this really really actually necessary for my well-being, other’s well-being, God’s delight?” I mean, God seems to delight in me whether I am a flaking piece of crap (as long as I am acknowledging my dependence on Him) or if I am the brightest silkiest fastest-hoping bunny on the bunny trail. He likes me. But I don’t seem to like Him. I always thought John 14 was kinda tough saying we only love God if we obey Him. But right now its easy for me to see its not a matter of us meeting at x y & z or we fall short; its not an emotional statement saying that doubtlessly He will reject me because I know I can’t meet up to perfectly obeying, i.e., loving Him. Its pretty much a statement of fact that when you love someone you will be trying to love them. You should try to make them happy and get their milk they asked for even if its at 1 a.m. at the local only-place-open Harris Teeter so they can eat their freakin’ tasty fiberous Mini Wheat’s in the morning! It makes you happy to make them happy! That’s why you should! Yep. Wouldn’t that be nice? We don’t believe in that selfless milk-maid relationships most of the time, though. Maybe when we are are starry-eyed in love. Generally the reality we choose is a reality of laziness and/or self-service which doesn’t love just to love.

In the book of Revelations Jesus is talking to one of His churches saying they lost their first love. I am pretty sure I am not in love with Jesus like the 1 a.m. milk type of love. I sometimes cringe at obeying Him. I do as little as possible to get by. My spiritual life suffers because of this and the people I crave to reach out are also thus shafted. I don’t want to be spiritually numb like my drooling mouth is.

I was going to write about a bunch of other stuff. I was going to talk about Avilynne and her idiosyncrasies. I was going to talk about how I wish others would challenge me and how I think I should be challenge (haha, I’d probably regret saying that later anyways). I was going to talk about how I think God wants me to teach English to my neighbor and that I am afraid of doing so, how I have a healthy fear of getting drunk and that I want to write a children’s book, change the world and never leave the emotional safety of my mind although I long to go parasailing in all manners of life. I guess these topics will have to wait until the train keeps running in my mind some other sleepless night. In the meantime I will enjoy being slightly sparked with a bit’o conviction. If I can still feel it, I must be still alive. 🙂

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One response to “Lovin’ like a Milk Man (or Maid)

  1. thank you for being honest

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