Confessions of A Dishwater-Blonde in Bib-Overalls


THE BIBLE SAYS AN HONEST answer is like a kiss on the lips.

So let’s call this a kiss, not a confession.


I’m as disillusioned as Solomon (disillusioned in a general sense), and I won’t attempt to analyze┬áthis feeling (let’s leave that to Oprah). In the style of Ecclesiastes: it is what it is and, like everything else, it will pass.

The meadowlarks have returned, and I’m glad to hear their sweet songs again; long-lost friends have also come back into my life; I’m picking up the slack for an employee who quit without warning, which is a challenge, but there’s good synergy at the office and plenty of bad customer-service jokes to relieve the strain; weekends are a whirl of weddings, holidays, etc…

So it isn’t that I’m depressed, anxious, or bitter. It’s just that my brain is tired, and my heart is tired, and if I weren’t so busy I think I could probably sleep twenty-four hours, seven days a week. (But now I’m analyzing, and I said I wouldn’t do that.)

Anyway, the weather is fickle and stormy. My dad surprised a bear when he was out checking pumps, and the night shift had to be cancelled after one of our guys faced down a mountain lion. The hired men are nervous, but field work must continue, so a professional hunter has been enlisted (an aging Rambo type who used to hunt the two-legged kind of predators, once upon a time).

I hardly taste my coffee in the mornings.

My little niece was crying one day, because no one had time to play, and the tragedy of it was too much for me. I gathered her up in my arms and burst into tears.

Did I forget to mention that an uncle killed himself?

I’ve been kind of mixed up lately, so if I’ve frustrated or hurt anyone, I’m sorry. Continue reading “Confessions of A Dishwater-Blonde in Bib-Overalls”

The Romance of The Cross

San Miguel, Mexico. My photo.

STAY, MY RESTLESS HEART, my wandering feet. The way of escape is here. The place of newness and purpose is here too. Not in the next adventure, the next accomplishment, the next good deed, the next admirer.

Stay and look up, above the spectacles, the sensations, the vanity. There is a cross up there in the sunshine, strong and plain, beckoning you back to Contentment. Back to your First Love–the Christ who willingly went “like a lamb to the slaughter”–the Christ who showed you what love really is. Back to the victorious Christ who repaired the pastor’s broken marriage and rescued him from the cartel.

How many kings and priests and wise men and prophets of ancient times longed to see what you see? You belong to someone, not something. You belong to a person, not a religious tradition or ideal. It is nothing less than the precious body that was broken like bread and the precious blood that was poured out like wine. “God With Us.” God for man and man for God. God and man, reconciled in the person of Jesus Christ.

Stay, my restless heart, my wandering feet. Desire the one who desires you. Continue reading “The Romance of The Cross”