burnt toast

In the explanation for sleeping with bread, the following quote jumps out at me today: “The examen, based on the spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius, helps a person hold onto what spiritually nourishes him by looking at what is giving him consolation in his life or causing him desolation. It allows someone to express his gratitude to God for the good stuff and turn to him for solace for the bad stuff.”

Today, I need solace. There isn’t a lot of bad stuff, but I am in a very gray place. Therefore, since I neglected my bread until after 11 PM, and I almost forgot about it completely, I am going to follow a slightly different format today.

The bad stuff:

I can’t seem to get myself even remotely organized. I have been pathetic about homeschooling for several weeks in a row. I can’t seem to drum up the motivation to be a good teacher, and it takes just a slight blip in the normal routine of the day to completely throw off my ability to teach at all. I look around at the chaos which is my home – that which is supposed to be a safe haven and a place of peace – and my attention-deficit-ed brain can see no possible way of turning things around in a reasonable amount of time (a.k.a. less than 100 years). I am wimping out on teaching my kids responsibility because I am too emotionally exhausted. It has a lot to do with insomnia, I know. It probably has even more to do with the fact that I am focusing my eyes on the wrong place. Peter didn’t start sinking until he took his eyes off of Jesus.

One would think that such a graphic image would go a long way toward steering me away from the same path, but alas, I seem to be stuck in Romans (specifically Chapter 7 verses 14-24). Sometimes the cycle is longer than others. My forward progress seems to go for longer spurts between bouts of paralysis through disappointment in self.

The good stuff:

And then there is Romans 7:25, “Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!” I don’t feel it right now, but it has already happened. It was all accomplished long ago. I just need to reach out and take it.

Also, my close friend who is expecting is in the hospital. She has had two stillborn sons. I worry for her. She is almost 35 weeks, and being closely monitored. “What’s this?” you say, “That sounds like the bad stuff!” Nay, it is indeed the stuff of prayer and blessings. It would be the bad stuff if she weren’t being observed – if the sporadic bad spots the babe goes through had not made themselves clear in the presence of doctors. But they did, and she is being watched, and while that doesn’t always make me any less nervous, it is the best place she can be.

So many blessings fill my life that I can actually become accustomed to them, and even, at times, irritated by them. That’s the good stuff.

Evidence abounds that God is truly watching over those I love.

What better stuff can there be?

I am grateful.

I no longer fall into depression which has no hope. Depression may still come (and it does), and hope may be microscopic at times, but it is there. Even a pin-prick of light is evident in a darkened room.

God is good.