October 23: Take Care of Business, Pumpkins, Mary Oliver, "The Way of the World"

". . . Just remember, if you don't take care of business, no one else will.  Do you really think God gives a shit?"

After the death of his son, Ives is confronted by several men who urge him to hire somebody to kill his son's murderer.  It's a frightening scene, with Ives half-drunk surrounded by angry thugs and small-time gangsters.  And they want blood.  God isn't a part of their equation.  God, as one of them so eloquently put it, doesn't really give a shit.

I can't buy into that line of thinking.  Sure, I think we're expected to work hard in our lives.  God rewards hard workers.  Of course, I sometimes wonder over the success of some people.  I'm only human.  I get jealous and angry when I struggle financially or professionally while others seem to coast.  I can't remember the last time that I felt content with my life.  It's hard to feel content when I can't even scrape up the money to buy a couple of pumpkins for my kids for Halloween.

I have friends who are tenured professors.  I have friends who are lawyers and doctors, priests and pastors.  Yet, I don't think many of these friends really think of themselves as lucky.  It's a very human thing to focus on what you lack versus what you have.  I do it all the time.

Tonight, I received some good news.  Earlier this week, I thought I was only going to be teaching one class in the winter semester, which would have meant a loss of about $3000 of income.  A disaster.  Tonight, I found out that I have been assigned another class.  A class I love to teach at a time that is very good for my schedule.

God gives a shit.  I am living proof this evening.  Tomorrow, I will probably still be worrying about pumpkins and the brakes on my car.  But, tonight, I know that God is watching out for me.  And that will help me sleep well.

I know you're all expecting a fairy tale and a new Stickman this evening.  It is Friday.  However, it's late, and I'm tired.  It has been a pretty exhausting week.  I promise to write a fairy tale next Friday and the return of Stickman.  Sometimes, I simply have to cut myself some slack.

This evening, Saint Marty knows the way of the world, and it is full of unexpected grace.

The Way of the World

by:  Mary Oliver

The chickens ate all the crickets.
The foxes ate all the chickens.

This morning a friend hauled his
boat to shore and gave me the most
wondrous fish.  In its silver scales
it seemed dressed for a wedding.
The gills were pulsing, just above
where shoulders would be, if it had
had shoulders.  The eyes were still
looking around.  I don't know what
they were thinking.

The chickens ate all the crickets.
The foxes ate all the chickens.

I ate the fish.

Stickman couldn't have said it better