gathering crumbs from under the table

I missed bread last week. Actually, I have missed being on the computer at all for most of the past week or so. However, even though I am late, I don’t feel comfortable letting the bread pass by for another entire week.


Although computer time was severely limited this weekend, I did find myself entertaining various bloggable thoughts. Through the passage of my second-born’s birthday, assorted family issues, and the daylight savings time associated jet lag, my mind has been awhirl with ponderings. I can’t really separate these thoughts into the respective good and bad columns, since the alternate sides are so tightly wound – forming a single braid.

When I was younger, I was much more emotionally intense than I have been in recent years. Strong passion was a hallmark of almost every moment. Raw patches developed from the constant exposure forced upon open wounds. Instability was ever threatening to take the dominant role. Other people’s hardships often acted as a rudder at least as powerful as personal experience. This constant battleground of emotional upheaval gave rise to a need for spiritual balm.

I learned through the years to deal with the intensity. Like ground cover wards off erosion, placing a small patch of apathy on the rawest of spaces limits the extent to which I am affected by my own and other people’s hurt - the sharp edges of those griefs are less likely to cut deeply. But apathy is emotional kudzu. Planted to keep the nutritious soil and tender green plants from washing away by pounding wind and rains, it soon covers patches and weaves a net of protection.



It doesn’t stop growing. Before long, it sends creeping vines onto bordering soil. The whole garden is overwhelmed by their intrusion. Flowers and shrubs…walkways, benches – places of beauty and comfort – soon disappear under a sea of green. Apathy may creep more slowly, but if not guarded, it too will overtake all that is good and strong. Even when kept in check, some of the more intense emotions are dulled.



Spiritually, I have to believe that God has a better way to deal with emotional overload than apathy – a way which holds no danger to the blessed giftings which are enshrouded in an emotional heart. The question is, am I able to trust Him enough to hand Him the garden shears?