Do you ever have an uncomfortable feeling like you're supposed to be somewhere doing something?
And does it ever occur to you that that somewhere might not even be on earth? I feel like I got sidetracked sometime before I was born. So far I've taken 24 years to smell the roses. What the heck, I'm enjoying it.
(My deeper suspicion is that I'm really just missing a class. Sheesh, going to see Bald Soprano and then reading the bit about the wood between the worlds in The Magician's Nephew should not be done in the same week on low sleep.)
(The Bald Soprano was darn funny.)
I was bit by a beetle in my cousin Harold's car.
I lived, gloriously, through my senior recital. How the heck, God! Didn't see that one coming.
I am flying to Buffalo for a job interview.
I burnt my finger with ineptness at coal-tossing.
I played tag-and-go-seek in the chapel until asthmatic resonance threatened to give away my sweet hiding place to the villianous Rachel and subversive Mott.
(Mott came to visit!)
I sat at a biologically inaccurate angle until my gluteals became paralyzed while SIPing.
If you choose any of the above, go to page 17. If not, put the book down and read something of societal import.
So it comes down to the last three weeks - not even that, anymore.
Saturday night I read Acts 4 before I went to bed. The sermon on Sunday was on Acts 4. Sunday night I prepared a devotional on the hymn "Spirit of God, Descend Upon My Heart" for the RD meeting next morning. In chapel on Monday, we sang that hymn. So I observe these things, and wonder, and wish my mind were not so muddled. Please take the dimness of my soul away. Then I laugh, and my roommates and I crack each other's backs, and I sure am glad God made other people.