Two people very dear to me lost their fathers recently.
My heart is heavy for them both. We’re getting to the age that we go to more funerals now than weddings. We keep our financial house in order. We ask our parents where their important papers are stored and make sure our kids know the same about us.
I clean house before I go away, even for a weekend. Because you never know what might happen and I’d hate for someone to come into my home and find it dirty. But only if I’m dead or in the hospital. If I’m alive and living in it, that’s a different matter.
I read a quote today. I don’t have it handy, so I’ll have to paraphrase.
“Human nature is not made to love something that is unkind or harsh to us.”
The context was that people who have a view of God as a wrathful and judgmental being won’t be able to love Him and draw near to Him.
That’s true, but I couldn’t help plugging it in to my brain and letting it illuminate the way I view some people. Particularly people who’ve hurt me.
I can forgive. I can move on. But I have a hard time loving them. Or even liking them much. And if it’s a deep and long-lasting hurt, I’ve found that it bleeds over into other areas. For instance, if the city they live in is mentioned in the news in a bad way, my first thought is, “Well, of course, nothing good comes from Chicago.” Or Cheyenne, or Columbus, or whatever it is.
The reverse can also be true. I just got some good news. Some really great news. All of a sudden, the world is beautiful, everyone is kind and thoughtful, life is good.
I know it’s like all feelings: fleeting and not indicative of actual life.
Life and death. Good news and bad. Love and apathy.
It’s all a part of life.
I’m off to go live it.