My schedule for work got moved today – for reasons too inconsequential to explain – so I’m working from noon to 9pm. That meant I had all morning to myself (and the Lord), and man, if I were a permanent housewife I would be dangerous. I made and cut 30 copies of my zine, dropped off a check in the next town, established two Roth IRAs, did a little grocery shopping, cleaned the kitchen, and baked a cake. That’s right: a cake – a layered cake to boot.

I think I’m missing a prayer meeting with my friends right now, though, which is fine. Really, I’m okay with it. Totally okay … the toddler in me wants to say it wouldn’t matter because it’s not like He’s currently meeting me in my prayer time, but I ground the toddler to inner monologue becuase it’s okay – I’m pushing through.

So there’s no great revelation to share today, but if you want to come over for chocolate cake you’re welcome.

The India zine is done, hallelujah. Now I just have to print it.

I seem to be in a holding period right now, so forgive me if the blog hasn’t been real fun. He refuses to encounter me. It’s odd because I know all the right things to say about it and all the reasons why (I’ve read Deep Unto Deep twice now), but it’s still a struggle. I know He’s drawing me out, teaching me to press in, cultivating a hunger in my spirit if I’ll allow it and not just give up … but I still catch my heart in bitter complaint. I still catch my flesh trying to just sleep in this time – why bother getting up early if He’s not going to meet you there? I still consider it, even though I know it’s typical wrong response to what is happening. Weird. Don’t worry, though, I’m pushing through.

“By night on my bed I sought the one I love; I sought Him, but I did not find Him. ‘I will rise now,’ I said, ‘And go about the city; in the streets and in the squares I will seek the one I love.’ I sought Him, but I did not find Him. The watchmen who go about the city found me; I said, ‘Have you seen the One I love?’ Scarcely had I passed by them, when I found the One I love. I held Him and would not let Him go …” (Song of Solomon 3:1-3)

The Lord is good at symbolism. I already explained my position that God is the ultimate author, and for someone who considers herself a literature enthusiast (or one who would be if she could find the time) it’s fun.

I was a bit sullen yesterday – everything that I’d been fighting off all week hit me yesterday in a well orchestrated ambush – and the fact that I had to drive to work in a gray, gloomy down-pour wasn’t real encouraging. Twenty-five minutes into it, though, as I was getting into McHenry, a fairly large, blue balloon dodged the truck in front of me and bounced along down the side of the road, keeping pace with my car for a moment.

Watching it out the passenger window I was amazed, first, that anything could bounce in that kind of weather. BAM! Condemnation. The enemy started accussing me of giving in to this little bout of depression and not letting the joy of the Lord be my strength, etc. Wonderful, now I’m sad and in sin – this is going to be a great day.

My second thought – because now I’m just embittered – was that a really dramatic effect would have been to make it a red balloon. Gottcha on that one, God. Then I realized that not only was the environment unpleasant, the balloon itself was blue … but still bouncing. He was right there to hold me: don’t feel bad for being a little down. You can have joy any time you want it, but if you’re tired and overwhelmed and you just want to sigh instead of smile it’s okay to cry on My shoulder – I won’t call you a bad Christian, or your faith weak. It’s okay to be a little blue when you’re getting rained on, just keep bouncing – be faithful in your duties and passionate for your God – and you’ll be fine.

The rest of my day was miserable, but I feel alright about it.