Conde Nast, February 12, 2019

That quote by Goethe yesterday was like a punch in the gut. About learning to love what must be done, not looking to discover what we love. Can that be true? I believe You're showing me and helping me to pursue what I love, to be who You made me to be. But I could take that too far, couldn't I?
I could decide the whole of existence was about doing what I love and staying interested, and I could begin to view life like a Conde Nast magazine. 

Spent, February 10 2019

After we dropped him off at the airport, I was spent. Thanks for helping me even in my gathering sullenness and displeasure, and for helping me get away for a while, comatose on the bed. Then I read. I browsed Facebook to mixed benefit. Reading O'Connor was probably helpful over all; her characters are so relatable and repellant. Mom made up the rest of the lamb, with stewed turnips and carrots and green beans and onions. A tasty dinner helped.

My life is not about me, it's not mine to control, and my self-realization and pleasure and dreams are not the point. Yet I have been made with particular strengths and weaknesses, particular needs, unique dreams and passions.
I should not neglect those. I should search my heart. I should use whatever gifts God has given me. I should be prepared and alert.
I should do everything in love.
I want this year to be marked by love. My life must be marked by dangerous love. Please prepare me. I refuse to die cold. 

Haiku for Omnivores, February 10 2019

TONIGHT WE ATE A LAMB
I RECALLED IT WAS A LAMB
WE WERE WEARING RED