I had one of those moments this weekend. You know the kind - when someone, or something, shows you an image of yourself, and you see what a sorry little bastard you really are. The details are boring but the end result is always the same: me licking my wounds, thanking God for his flabbergasting gift of grace, praying like hell that my soul won't always look like a selfish little newborn, all red, wrinkled and demanding.
Tonight, while I am still existing in this grace-filled, humbled, head space, a person who has been exceedingly generous and kind to me for years, calls me up and rudely demands something from me. You would think that my newly ass-kicked heart would snap to attention, recall past kindnesses and gladly offer the grace that has just been poured out on it, right? Right?
Hell no! I get all offended, begin the speeches in my head that I would like to give this person and reluctantly perform the demanded task, all the while trying to understand why I am such an ass, knowing full well that my heart is being an ugly little wretch.
Oh glory.
I swear, some days I might as well be eight seconds old.
2 comments:
thanks ang, it's good to know others feel the same.
ass-kicked heart is a new phrase, and I quite like it.
how did the writing trip go?
my trip was fantastic - the writing sporadic. two year olds don't really care that you just had the most amazing idea that you need to write down RIGHT now. consequentially, i wrote something titled "writing while driving 140km/hr."
lots of notes though. trying to mush them into something cohesive now.
hey. you must have had a birthday last month. i can't forget that cake at l'abri! happy (really) belated birthday.
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