Random thoughts for the day:

Cold weather, even if it’s sunny, makes me somehow feel as if I am ill—makes me feel sort of stiff, achy, fragile, and also like I have a fever. I guess it’s that cold-skin feeling, even under your clothes.  So even on the most beautiful cold winter day I feel less alive.  I know lots of people who love cold weather and I love them, but I honestly to my core don’t understand how you can love the cold, the bare trees, the darkness.  I understand why people used to imagine that in Eden there was no winter, only fall into spring.

I love watching my dog roll around in the sunshine on the grass.  It makes me feel better about the world.

I used to sometimes, if not often, wake up in the morning feeling sad and a bit hopeless, just mildly depressed and for no good (or even identifiable) reason.  And Sunday evenings I had those blah feelings again.  But since my daughter was born I never get that feeling.  There is something about waking up to a little life in the next room, whether it’s happy or sad, that invokes some sort of good feeling.  Even if it’s just a momentary heart-stopping feeling when she cries out, of wondering if she’s sick or hurt.  Or more likely, I just hear her in her room talking or singing to herself, and my heart fills up.  And on those Sunday evenings– or anytime in which I used to find myself feeling a bit at loose ends, not knowing what I wanted to do next or feeling bored– I now feel comfort and joy, watching  AE  play and live in the moment.  Makes me cherish the times I do have the luxury of feeling bored or restless.  Having a child takes you out of yourself in the best way possible. 

I’m currently reading about Christian attitudes toward Islam during the medieval and early modern periods in England.  And it strikes me again how little we change over the centuries.  How there’s something inside of us—small, mean, and broken—that wants to take down something that frightens or confuses or threatens us.  I struggle a lot with the whole question of who’s got the “right” answer to who God is, what God is like.  In my heart, though, I have to admit that Christianity is “it” for me, while at the same time accepting that Judaism or Islam or Buddhism might be “it” for another.  For me, Christianity means joy and redemption, two things I could not live without.  I’m not in charge of the rest of the world, only of myself, and even that to a very limited degree.

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