Pat Robertson on thrift.

Saint Mark the Evangelist - Felt and plastic printing plate

So Pat Robertson, the ever exciting host of The 700 Club, has joined the thrifting world by encouraging the rebuking of evil spirits from all secondhand sweaters. I can only imagine what horrors I've unknowingly brought home in my hundreds of thrift encounters.

I must leave, and cleanse my home. Peace out :)

I am bad at being patient.

After waiting two years to find these in my size, when they arrived, all I could think was, "Meh"

So I moved into my new office today, and found that in spite of my saying that "yes, that's okay with me", it did not feel okay to have someone else's things in the office. The previous occupant needs a little bit of grace to move her things out. And in that moment (which extended into a school-day long of feeling crappy and anxious), I realized, "Hey Megan, you're not as patient as you thought you were." Shit. I was afraid of that.

I have waited for a lot of things in my life, and for some of them, I am still waiting. Scratch that. I've been waiting for a lot of things for my whole life. I thought that this waiting was making me a patient person, but in fact, it isn't. I've become angry about the waiting. I'm angry with God for the hand I was dealt. I'm angry at God for not plucking me out of my own life, and giving me a similar, but easier, alternate reality. Instead of being an adult about the whole thing, I've allowed my three-year-old self to run the show, and she's constantly asking, "Are we there yet?" And I don't know what to tell her. "No, we're not there yet. I don't know when we're going to be there, or if we'll ever get there, or if I even know where it is we're supposedly going." Is that what I say?

Whatever I end up saying, I want it to be something that helps me to be more patient, that points me in the right direction, instead of where I am at the moment, the decidedly wrong direction. Somehow, I need to learn to be patient for the things I want. But it's so hard. I want it now!

Also, I'm terrible with change, so that might not be helping the situation. Prescription? More cowbell!

Just pick something.

 Extreme hopes are born of extreme misery.

Bertrand Russell

In reality, hope is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs the torments of man.

Friedrich Nietzsche

I am a stubborn fool, and believe in things that will never be. But I am also a wise fool, because I believe in the impossible, and maybe, just maybe, hope things into being. I've been told that I would die without hope, because I said I didn't have any. But to live without hope is no life at all. To live without believing, even somewhere deep inside your own unconscious mind, that something better is possible, is to be dead.

Every person alive has some form of drive to live, and I call that hope, I guess, whether or not it really fits (If I tweak the definition a bit, I can claim that I have some and no one will worry about me). Depression can be the realization that there is no reason to hope, and no thing to hope for. So every day, I wake up, and I find something that keeps me going. Sometimes, it's completely delusional. Actually, it's usually delusional; that's why it sticks around. It's the rational hopes that don't last long-they are quickly swept into the "not possible" pile and filed away in the garage.

I believe in the impossible. It has gotten me through decades of life-not-always-worth-living. And to give it up, and hope in a God I cannot see or touch or feel, who may or may not ever return-that seems more delusional than thinking you can time travel to win the lottery, don't you think?

The Lure of NEW

I've gone from worrying about giving up thrift for a man to going to IKEA tomorrow and containing my bouncing desire to go into debt with new furniture for my new super-small apartment. I want a new bed, and a new mattress, and lots of fun containers and shelving. I will not get all of these things. I'm not that rich.

This past week, I had to let go of something I've loved for a very long time. I had to let go so that I could fully move on with my life, put all my trust in God, etc. But giving up what I love in the interest of the greater good, the Kingdom and what not, makes me squirm. I start to feel entitled. "Oh yeah God? You have the nerve to ask me to to do that after all that I've done for you lately?" God and I really get into it, or I get into it by myself while God patiently listens. Either way, it's cathartic.

I think it's okay to want things, but I think that what makes me uncomfortable is the need for those things. There is a lot that I want that I may never be able to have, but when I rest my hope on getting things I want, rather than on the future hope of total universal redemption, I don't get to share in the joy of God's plan. I end up disatisfed and bitter because I haven't gotten my way. This is impossible stuff, mind you. I have no power over my own wants, but I can make choices that reflect my dependence upon God, rather than my dependence upon my own power.

Sermon over. Peace out.