Crotchety

 

Approaching home airport, 1-18-25

     Jerked awake rudely was I by a nasty electrical C-pap smell. All water had burnt out, prompting a dream of me trying to scrub clean an angelic blonde baby girl who stank to high heaven. Bad parents! Not my fault!  First hour of the morning grew more and more grouchy, including spousal shouting and the strong urge to skip the new disciplines in favor of plunking down with np comics and puzzles in hand—the old routine.  But here I am, sulking much less, sensing, praying, and writing.  

     Lord, I definitely did not want to talk to you or myself a hour ago.  Yet where would that get me?  I don’t think “it is written” per se that resentment of Divinity is a sin, although many stories speak of the wroth of God due to the People “turning away.”  Looks like a matter of degree and modern language. So, God please forgive my resentments of you and me.  The consequent necessity for soul work sheds light on my lazy resentment, among all the other weaknesses, which I obviously don’t take kindly at times.  But no excuses before You.  

    I pray for peace and prosperity and mild tempers for my tribe and the world.  IJN