Ives is at the end of his life. He's tired, but happy. At peace. After decades of pain and grief, Ives can listen to music, pray, attend church without the torment of grief and anger. In some ways, he has reached a kind of enlightenment, backed up by a church choir.
It has been another really long day. My head hurts, and all I can think about is getting to Friday morning. I will be getting the hell out of town for a few days. No work. No teaching. Just eating, reading, drinking, and more eating. Oh, and my daughter's dance competition.
I have not reached any kind of enlightenment like Ives. For the past three or four days, I've been praying that I can somehow give my worries over to God. After all, I can't control whether I get one or two classes to teach in the fall. I can't control where I'm told to work in the medical office. Yet, I'm losing sleep, getting headaches because I'm powerless.
So, tonight, with my head throbbing and my eyes burning, I'm grateful for the promise of some time off. A vacation. That's God's love number twenty-nine.
Maybe Saint Marty will find some enlightenment on the road.
I wonder if they sell enlightenment at Starbucks |
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