There was a full lunar eclipse on Wednesday. There was also a giant rain cloud over my portion of the sky. I was exceedingly pleased with the rain and even skipping in it as I walked into work. (I love rain) Until I realized that the same happy rain that was misting my eyelashes was covering up my hopes to see an eclipsing moon. Blast.

And isn't that just how it happens to me. Good is a beautiful curtain in front of glorious, and once I notice this I can't even enjoy good anymore. Again, blast.

Why am I still awake? I was headed to bed an hour or more ago but restless. Wrote some emails. Checked something off my To Do list. Read a post about community and that felt like cold water in my face. Now how am I supposed to sleep?

Earlier tonight I was listening to a condensed history of missions, from the Gauls to William Carey. Something about sitting in that room makes me fill up pages in my journal -- but I'm still listening to the speaker, I promise. I multi-task. And I digress.

Anyway.

Tonight I was writing about the lost feeling I've been having and the multiplicity of answers people have given as the way to find a way again. I am afraid of most of the solutions, primarily because I'm leery of anything being offered as a "solution" to some supposed "problem." We're all about fixing things, in the most expedient way, and then driving out of the pit to reach 200 miles an hour again. But right now I don't think I want to be fixed at all. I think I just want an arm around the shoulder, or a hand on my back. And I don't want either of those to exist in connection with something I have or haven't done, or have or haven't been this past week.

(does that answer your question, Mandi? A more thorough reply is on its way...)

He never stops smiling. In fact, his smile is so perpetual as he talks that I have learned a few things about consonant pronunciation: it is possible, for example, to create the same sounds with lower lip and teeth as lower and upper lip. Like an "m." Apparently the same sound can be accomplished without a smile ever disappearing.

And the thing is, he's talking about the glory of God -- as revealed through the death of his firstborn baby boy.

Valentine's Day of my 26th year.  It has only been 20 minutes so I don't really feel like I'm in it yet.  But here it is, a day in which (apparently) women even send themselves flowers.  How pitiful we are, and I don't mean the women.   How we have made a spectacle of romance, have so charmed ourselves into believing it is the pinnacle that even those watching believe all the hype.  If that is the peak, I want a different mountain to climb.

But I do want to acknowledge the beauty of love.  I watched an old man push his grocery cart to the car today.  In the middle of his canned food and fruit was a big bundle of long-stemmed roses.  I smiled.  A teenager was picking out a teddy bear in the store, laboring over the choices (and there were plenty).  I rolled my eyes.  But I have been her.

Not this year.  No, this will not be a chocolates and hearts February 14th for me (unless someone brings theirs to share at the office).  But just because it isn't mine doesn't mean it isn't someone's.  Alot of someones'.  So to every tenderhearted woman who will be duly touched by an unspontaneous yet sincere affirmation of her value today -- to you I say: happy valentine's day.  (I hope he writes more than just his name on your card.)

I've always thought of being sick as just like being well -- only with a permit to stay in bed and read a book or watch tv all day. But the trouble with being sick is usually one or two places hurt quite alot. Like your head, not permitting you to read. Or your stomach, not allowing you to think, or really even breathe properly.

So I think we should just suffer at work when we're sick and save the staying at home for being well. It would be alot more fun that way.