Giving Thanks for What We Don't Yet Have

Phoenix was ok... grandpa passed away on Wednesday night, about 10 hours before I got on the plane to go out and see him. The time with the family was really great; we all came together like we never had before and became what a family is supposed to be, and I am proud to be a member. I got home on Tuesday night feeling exhausted in new ways that I had yet to discover... it's amazing how many different ways this broken world can chafe against us, isn't it? Since then, it feels like someone else has been going through the motions of my life for me... it's all a bit of a fog. I'm not sure if it's grief, or physical stuff, or what; I just know that its going to take a long time to feel "normal" again... it's not just my grandpa. I just feel beat down by life right now, and Someone is gonna have to come alongside me and pick me up again. Someone BIG. Someone... fresh and new and familiar and present. Someone offering a hope and a future that's better than the one I've imagined for myself.

Bored

I'm bored. Why am I bored? WHY am I bored? *bangs head against wall*

Am I discontent with what God has put in front of me? Is it ok to feel bored with everything right now? Is there more to life than broken cars and bratty students? Where am I going in life? For that matter, where have I come from? What does God WANT? Scratch that last. I know what He wants. "God is most glorified when we are most satisfied in Him." The thing is, sometimes being "faithful in the small things" feels kinda tedious. Sometimes, it feels like we're halfway between the time when the purpose was given to us and the time when it's fulfilled in our lives. Those insufferably optimistic readers out there are thinking, "Well, those are good times, because they make you reevaluate your purpose and seek God more." Oh, Pollyanna, go listen to the birds chirp somewhere else, will ya? Ugh. Yeah, I know. Anyway, you're right, and I can't stand that fact.

My grandfather on my mom's side is dying. I want to write a eulogy, but I can't because I feel like I don't have enough material. Wow... it felt cruel to write that, but I'd be dishonest if I took it out. He hasn't been a part of my life. Is that my fault or his? I don't know. Is it a question of fault? Here is what I would say if I had to speak at his funeral:

He made great fudge, and he had a special marble cutting board for it. He used to play trombone. One time, I played Scrabble with him, and he actually wore a cone-shaped, bright-colored party hat for the entire game. He liked warm weather, slide shows, and my other elderly relatives. He smiled sometimes at those forced birthday parties that families always have because they only see each other once every few years, and they feel obligated to "catch up" on what they've missed. And I loved him. Anyway, I'm going to Phoenix to try to see him before he goes...