Unwell

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I’ve been sick for over a month now. Since August, my asthma has been overly sensitive, then I got a cold and can’t seem to fully recover. I’ve cough so much I nearly pass out because I can’t stop—and actually have passed out (once last year when I had RSV, and the other night. I started coughing then woke up on the ground). Laughing causes the same result so I must be careful. My head hurts from coughing all the time.  Since breathing is compromised, I have zero energy. I have a nice stool at work on which to sit but getting things done around the house is nearly impossible. Taking the trash up and back absolutely winds me. I have one day off, like today, and all I want to do is sleep.  “ . . . to die, to sleep; No more; and by a sleep, to say we end The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks That Flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep, To sleep, perchance to Dream; aye, there's the rub, For in that sleep of death, what dreams may c...

Sweet and Sour

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I’m excited because as I rub shoulders with students who will be staying around for the summer, I soon discover they have ministry plans. At least they are not sitting back on their haunches, licking their wounds from a semester of study (just kidding—but at least they are busy in ministry). Conversing with one student, I referred to a calendar of evangelism opportunities I have posted outside my office. “Yeah,” he tells me, “our church has blocked out a number of dates to be doing evangelism outreach through the summer. We’ll see you there!” That’s sweet.

The other day I was driving through Columbia when something caught my eye. Standing in the parking lot of a local restaurant, three older gentlemen had their arms around each other’s shoulders, heads bowed, obviously praying. Right there in public! How encouraging! That was sweet.

About 10 minutes down the freeway, I was lost in thought and found myself staring at a pick-up truck as it passed me on the left (I try was in the far-right lane, nearing my exit). It took my mind a moment to realize what was so unusual about the truck—beat up, green, towing a trailer . . . swerving, speeding up, slowing down, swerving . . . . At 60 miles per hour, I realized the driver of the truck was lifting his right arm up to shield his head from the blows his female passenger was raining upon him. These were no “oh, gee, stop it you're embarrasing me,” kind of blows. She was screaming at him, nearly standing up in the seat of the truck. As soon as she stopped screaming, he let his arm down—then suddenly she started again: arm up, whack on the head a few times, speeding up, swerving . . . . This went on for miles, and then I had to get off at my exit. It’s one thing to have a woman scorned, but while driving on the freeway? I actually felt sorry for the guy—and I have no clue what he did. I just prayed nobody got killed . . .

I don’t listen to the radio much, but the last few miles before my destination, I turned the radio on and heard a news headline that rocked my boat: adults with children are less happy. The story went on to explain how research discovered that when families have children (?) the parents are no longer happy and should they regain happiness later in life, it is after the kids are “gone.” How selfish. How sad. My children are my arrows, and I have a quiver-full—but I could not imagine life without them. As a matter of fact, I don’t think my wife and I could be any happier!

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