I Don’t Deserve You

Not to be a “woman” here, but after a lot of spastic emotional trouble yesterday, I’ve decided to re-persue my Comparative Governments class. Which is actually really great because I can’t get my money back now if I drop it. I am so thankful for the goodness and comfort of good counsel and encouragement. Way to be, y’all. Way to be.
And I’m really grateful that this morning when I called One Stop at UC (the registrar’s office or something-what a hip cool name!) and found out there’s a procedure for un-dropping a class! Huzzah! Even my professor seemed pretty cool about trying to get it all sorted back to the way it was before. And, wonder of all wonders (or should I say, Grace of all graces?), the class lobbied for a push back of the midterm until Monday instead of tomorrow, so I can actually study and get some sleep tonight.
God. Is. Good.
Not that He wouldn’t have been just as good if I had had to keep my class dropped, or if my exam really had been tomorrow, or even if I hadn’t gotten counsel and encouragement. And I would like to think that I would be grateful to Him regardless of circumstances. He seemed to impress on me last night in prayer that no matter what happened today, He would be sovriegn over it and I should be grateful. And I should. Because there’s always something to be grateful for. I don’t even just mean the important and oft forgot things like the fact that I live in a safe place, that I have my needs provided for, that I’m blessed with compatriots and freedoms inherent to my country, that Natalie is, that my mother was part of the body of Christ and is therefore enjoying the joys of being reunited with her creator as are others I’ve known who are no more in physical form. All these are wonderful things to be thankful for, and more besides. But there is something to be thankful for even when things go so terribly wrong in my estimation. If those things are because of my actions, I can be grateful for the lesson. If those things are things I have no part in, there is an opportunity to be grateful for learning about the sovriegnty and sustainence of God.

But, ah, well. In much the way that an old man falls asleep in the afternoon watching the stock report and wakes up just as Jeopardy is coming on, time passes. And those things you wrote in your early twenties when you thought you were so freaking cool and subterrainiously deep turn out to be pretty trite. Or perhaps, if you’re me, are so incredibly vague and befuddling that YOU yourself don’t know what the devil it was you were talking about. You realize you don’t know what ever happened to the Strawberry Shortcake t-shirt you used to love but you recall with remorse that moment when the one with Mighty Mouse emblazened across it’s front blew off the railing of the houseboat you were vacationing on years ago and sank, languidly, into Cave Run Lake.You remember the things that you did while wearing those shirts, or not wearing them as the case may be, and cringe for a moment, then recover and realize that if you had them to wear again, you would make both Strawberry Shortcake and Mighty Mouse proud.




This blog attempts to merge Christian ladyhood with feminist-ish ranting, what I like to call Femristian Rantinghood. It's a delicate art, I know, but someone's got to invent it! Wannabe artist and writer, I'm a birthmom to an adorable little girl who I love like the dickens. Also? I ramble a lot. Sorry.