Bad day, eh?

I felt crappy when I got up yesterday, so I called in sick, as I had felt crappy all weekend and needed an extra day of rest. Turned out to be a pretty good day. I took naps. I took pseudophed. I watched TV. I washed clothes and dishes. Good day.

Today started off way better--I felt better when I woke up, and gladly went to work, where my coworkers are dropping like flies. Anne was clearly sicker than me, but because she has a sense of obligation, came to work anyway, and by afternoon, another one of our coworkers had gone home sick. Before I left work, the lady who's kid spread her cold germs to everyone in the house asked me why everyone was edgy. I not too graciously explained that it's hard not to be when everyone has the cold that her kid passed around. (This was far from my proudest moment and I think I owe her an apology.)

Got home, at tacos, hugged Ben. The day is getting better.

Went out with friends to see the movie: Constantine's Sword. This film was excellent. I highly recommend it for 1. any Christian who feels remorseful about the history of the violence of the church, 2. any Christian who is down with just war, or 3. any non-Christian who is pissed about killing in the name of God. It was just great. I would be happy to offer all of my thoughts, but they're mostly super sad, and I have more to report on.

We were recovering from the terrible sins of the Church we love by eating eating ice cream at Coldstone when my dear, good, alcoholic friend called me drunk, asking for a ride home. I'm more than happy to let many people suffer consequences for their actions, but we were moved to give my friend a ride, so we did. I can't express how sad it is to see friends at their worst and most pathetic.

So we dropped off my friend, came home, told sick, tired Anne that she should sleep on our couch, and thought about settling in for the night, when I found a wet spot on our carpet. No leak from above...and it's really, really wet...I tried sopping it up with a towel, but the wetness was coming up from the poured slab floor, though the padding and carpet. Crap. The sump pump. Yesterday, I discovered that the sump pump had not been running, maybe all day, and had, in fact, filled to brim and begun overflowing just slightly into Jenny's office/guest room. The plug had been loose, and when I plugged it back in, it seemed to work normally. Today, I reached my hand in to see if the little floaty switch was working, and got shocked. Not super badly, but my hand was tingly for a while. The switch was not working right. I finally got it to switch on and drain the well, but it doesn't switch off any more, which means that it could easily overheat, kick off, and leave the downstairs to get even more soggy.


In short, we need to replace our sump pump in the morning if we don't want our downstairs carpet to get all ruined. Also? I think I might be staying up most of the night to plug in the sump pump and run it from time to time. I'm really, really, really hoping that the steady stream will slow to a drip and I will be able to just sleep and sleep and sleep. Yes. Sleep.

And then a brand new day which would surely be better, right?

Responsibility

I have this dilemma going on inside myself. I've been praying for a long time about a couple of areas of my life in which I think I might have some giftings, but haven't explored their use in the kingdom of God much. Specifically, these areas are painting and public speaking (sometimes taking the form of preaching or teaching or leading).

So far in life, I would call these hobbies, interests, or pursuits that are not central to who I am. In the past year, though, I find them being pushed right into the center of my field of vision. To tell you the truth, I am nervous as hell about this. I'm nervous about the idea of things that I do for fun becoming regular obligations. I don't want the accountability that comes with saying, "Yes, these are things I do for God."

I'm not too interested in censoring my art or my speech, or, for that matter, in developing a consciousness about either. I love speaking my mind, and what I can't say, I love to put on a canvass or draw out all over paper. I love having that to myself. I'm feeling pretty possessive about it all, but I'm trying to hard to turn these things over. To start giving with them instead of just taking satisfaction from them.

But I don't like responsibility. I don't really care much for making commitments. I'm getting what I've been praying for, and I'm being reassured by reassuring people, but it's stressing me out. I've been asking, "God, what am I supposed to do with this?" and God, of course has been saying, "Use it!"

My aversion to anything that feels like an obligation is sucking some of the joy out of these pursuits. I think maybe the next step is to start praying for maturity to gladly follow the leading of the Spirit.

Yeah. I'll bet that's it.

I wouldn't exactly say that I love flowers...

but I can appreciate beauty, and I do love to paint. I did this painting this week. It's 20'x24'. We're shipping it to Ben's grandparents in Hawaii as a "thank for flying us out to visit you" gift. Hopefully it will inspire them to fly us out again and again and again. It's an orchid that I photographed at the botanical gardens. Like I said--the photos are much more interesting to me than the actual plant.

Eclectic

These, in order, are the main events of my day:
Brewed coffee
Drank said coffee until the very last second before I...
Played inter mural soccer
Showered in a rush
Wore a skirt to...
The wedding of my co-workers, Ken and Sherilyn
Saw the groom's mother pray in tongues during the wedding (a wedding first for me)
Came home
Ate pizza
Wrote out the message that I'm giving at church tomorrow
Napped
Went out to Strouds Run to smoke cigars with friends
Blogged.
Good day.

Magritte (aka, "This is not a Beer)

I barter. I did this painting in exchange for hard cider that my friend brewed. Soooooo gooooood. The picture of beer as his head is in honor of the Belgian Surrealist, Magritte. You're familiar with his work, even if you don't recognize his name. I promise.

What delicacies do you possess that you would prefer to exchange for oh-so-classy paintings? Jackson Pollock used to buy groceries with his paintings.

Back Home

Yup. I decided that although Hawaii is beautiful and contains family, fresh fish, and is surrounded by the sea, I want to keep living in Athens. My friends are here. My church is here. My life is here. This might sound crazy, but I missed work while I was away. More specifically, I missed the people that I meet at work. I missed the character. Vacations are insulating. They're an escape from reality. I don't think I like that. I like reality. I like real people. I want them in my life, and I don't think I like the idea of escaping from this poor place on purpose. So, I want to move my job and all of my poor friends to Hawaii. I am open to suggestions for how to make this work.

I also decided that this place--Secret Beach--is the most beautiful place I've ever been.

I took this week off of work, too. I am 2 days into this second vacation and I know already that it will not be long enough. I have a long list of things to paint and write. So far, I can only cross off one thing--an underwater fish painting for my 12 year-old nephew. We haven't unpacked our camera yet, or I would be posting a photo. Sorry. Anyway, it's not especially good, but it is especially fun, which I think is what 12 year-olds care about.

Tomorrow I'm spending a lot of my day in the prayer cabin at Good Works. I like the cabin. I think I'll need to build a fire. It's only supposed to be 54.