First the Rain & then the Drought
I have gotten less (openly) bitter as the popularity of the blog has grown, but now that numbers are down I think it is ok to let it all out. There was a year of my life that we nostalgically refer to as the YEAR OF MEN! Yes people, it was literally raining men. Ok well not literally but figuratively with the force of literally. For some reason, in that particular year, my bluntness and overall lack of feelings was deemed mysterious and endearing. The mystery was likely due to not knowing anyone else like me, since I have no secrets and am therefore the opposite of mysterious. Anyway, the year of men ended, well more like fizzled, leaving me in the year of drought.
In the year of drought my bluntness is seen as rude, and my mystery is more correctly called weird. It has become quite normal for people to tell me that I am either weird or awkward. Actually I find the normalcy of being called weird quite ironic, but I let people feel like they have given me some epiphany. "Oh I am weird! I had no idea, that totally explains why I don't understand you!" There was brief season of rain in midst of the drought that came after my 3rd cousin gave me a prayer to Saint Raphael the patron saint for the single and dejected, but for the most part... drought.
I have not decided which is better, the rain or the drought. The rain brought men, but none I wanted to keep. The drought brought nothing but that also includes no drama (no no drama, no no drama!). I have this fishy feeling that God is sovereign over both the rain and the drought, you know like a modern Elijah. So I sit in the drought, NOT praying for rain, but praying maybe for a rain drop, one beautifully tanned rain drop or perhaps for a job and a place to live. All 3 might be pushing my luck.
In the year of drought my bluntness is seen as rude, and my mystery is more correctly called weird. It has become quite normal for people to tell me that I am either weird or awkward. Actually I find the normalcy of being called weird quite ironic, but I let people feel like they have given me some epiphany. "Oh I am weird! I had no idea, that totally explains why I don't understand you!" There was brief season of rain in midst of the drought that came after my 3rd cousin gave me a prayer to Saint Raphael the patron saint for the single and dejected, but for the most part... drought.
I have not decided which is better, the rain or the drought. The rain brought men, but none I wanted to keep. The drought brought nothing but that also includes no drama (no no drama, no no drama!). I have this fishy feeling that God is sovereign over both the rain and the drought, you know like a modern Elijah. So I sit in the drought, NOT praying for rain, but praying maybe for a rain drop, one beautifully tanned rain drop or perhaps for a job and a place to live. All 3 might be pushing my luck.
Comments
Post a Comment