I'm a wonderfully blessed man, of this I am aware.
I continually thank God for all he has entrusted me with. I have a wife that has stood by my side during tough times. I have 3 beautiful children. We live in a comfortable home, and we don't worry about our safety or where the next meal might come from. This year we were blessed enough to give a small but significant amount of money to another family less fortunate to make their holidays a little easier.
I sit here thinking of all the plans we have laid. My mother is here, my father flies in this afternoon--it's the first Christmas we've spent with them in probably 5years. Probably this evening we'll attend a Christmas Eve service at our church which will no doubt be a spectacle of celebration. My wife's family will join us tomorrow morning for presents and a home cooked dinner. We'll have 17 people this year--not a full house, but a strong showing. These are good plans. Full of life, and love and happiness.
So why is there this feeling of melancholy, coursing just below the surface, subtle but definitely present?
It seems like the story of my life. Feeling what I shouldn't when I shouldn't. Fighting so hard for the things I indubitably want or need, and then when they are mine...it's not what I thought, or I was led on, or the battle damaged me so much I can't accept the prize.
Sometimes we're awarded a flash of what could be, a glimpse of how happy we might be. A distant time and place that beckons with exhilaration and enchantment. Who knows if these small looking glass windows are authentic, or would the scene be simply another make believe stage with puppets and string and cardboard when clutched closely to my chest?
The cost to get here has been enormous, and the debt is just the beginning. How many lives have I affected with my wallowing about in uncertainty? What pain have I caused? What discord have I generated? What relationships suffer because of me? I don't know the answer to all those questions, but knowing for certain wouldn't bring absolution.
They make little pills for this. Glorious orbs of even keel. Of moderated pain, dampened urges, and dazzling shades of beige and gray. Of heavenly rest and muffled cries. Maybe its time, I'm so very tired.
But for now, instead, I'll paint up the clown, and go find my stage.
Balloon animal anyone?
Who in their right mind would do this?
3 weeks ago