November 3, 2011

• Mucking, and Cows

  I've realized something.

  This school year, I've been mucking it. I'm not quite sure what mucking involves, but I know it involves big boots and a lot of grime. I've been on survival mode since the summer, and really, I don't think I've recovered fully from some of the late Spring trauma that came this way. And how it seemed to last forever. And the realization it took to get me out of the pit. But the scum is still under my nails. No, it's somewhere in my heels and I'm dragging it around. And around. And around. I'm stronger, but still faltering. 

  And yet, it's ok. I know the trajectory of my flailings and although it's not clean, and straight, and uncomplicated as I would like it to be, it's ok. Me and Him... we're gonna make it. And if these are lessons, come. Do it. I always grew and (sigh, in faith,) I will look forward to learning more. And lately, it's not been so bad. There has been moments when everything is clear again. (Although it's been rough recently. Blame it on Sucktober. See prev post. Or was it the post before that? Eh. Who cares. It's NOVEMBER.)

  Sanity is like a herd of cows. (Pun intended.) "Coming to oneself," is like the cows coming home. Cows and dogs and sheep and goats. Except the moment the door opens again, out they go, gallivanting into the green green grass, deaf to the commands to stay put. Except for the dog, who hears and decides not to obey... And usually, it's the darkness that calls them. These are not your nyctophobic quadrupeds... 

  So I'm missing a few cows. And basically, they're out all day. Chompin' on the grass. Pooping on the lawn. Hanging out in some various other state/country/Canada far away. Hiking in the foothills of Shenandoah. Learning new languages on Rosetta Stone when it should be me learning Portuguese and German and Italian... the goats and sheep are out too... and the dogs... well, by this point it should be clear that I'm struggling with maintaining something important up there. 

  But, as this site's title implies, God owns the cattle on a thousand hills. And all my lost cows are His. I am also assuming that He owns the cowbell, or whatever these people use to call the cows home. So. In the meantime. I will wait, and do my best, and realize that the human heart and mind and mood are really poor indicators of what's real. Self-reports, as I'm learning even from my own declarations, are ever the more further off the mark. 

  I miss my friends. I miss my family. I miss... a lot of things. And I desire a lot of things. Like for this year to be over. The whole school year. Bam. Now. 

  But if I can remind myself of not just tomorrow, but the dreams of tomorrow's tomorrow's tomorrow.... I can do this. My net is cast far. I guess it's like riding a bike... I've been wobbling over the pebbles I'm trying to avoid, but perhaps... perhaps if I look up, it'll be ok. Or, I could wipe out, forget to unclip, and splatter myself all over the road. And you know what? I think that won't be the end of the world. 

  I've been writing more. That's either a bad sign or a good sign. (But not a useless one.) 

  And if you find a cow or two ambling around that belongs to me, please return it. I'd be grateful. I'm pretty sure there's one up in Michigan that I'd like to claim in person. Until then.....

   

   Don't eat me...

  • 9:28 pm
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