Life is, without doubt, good. I am blessed with good health, a wonderful supportive and attractive wife, two children who simply melt me daily, a ministry that is far more than I ever deserve, a place to minister in that is wonderful (if challenging at times). I have no overdraft, a car that I can afford, friends who support me through thick and thin, and today is a beautiful day. I have my wits and I have .... a blog.
Why, I hear you ask, am I boring you with this? Well, it pays to recognise the good in ones life from time to time, for to do so allows us to give thanks for those things.
This all said, there is something that niggles at me, and I am partly hoping that I am not alone. I can be sitting on my squishy cat-clawed settee, or driving along in the Pocket Rocket, and like a little bubble of fizz I get a mere moment of complete emptiness. Nothing is there. For that fraction of a second, life loses meaning and colour, and everything seems hopeless and pointless. Simple things feel insurmountably difficult and happy things lose their shimmer - all in the blink of an eye, in the popping of a bubble.
This is all odd to me as I am probably the most energetically positive man you could meet, but the bubbles pop just one a week or less. I might be going mad, I don't know. But as quickly as the bubble appears, it pops and normal service is resumed. I am not overly worried about this, and I certainly don't lose sleep over it (there is no sleep left after the babes have robbed me of it - perhaps that is the problem here).
The reason I put this here is partly so that, in reading this to myself, I can work at what it is all about - but also because it is teaching me to read myself inwardly more. I am the worst in the world at taking myself for granted. I am quite blind to the fact that I might not have limitless energy and drive, and the possibility that I might need to slow up every once in a while - well, that passes me by completely.
No bubbles this week though - happily
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