November 14: Extravagant Gesture, Health Insurance, God of Just Enough

After the one extravagant gesture of creation in the first place, the universe has continued to deal exclusively in extravagances, flinging intricacies and colossi down aeons of emptiness, heaping profusions on profligacies with ever-fresh vigor. The whole show has been on fire from the word go. I come down to the water to cool my eyes. But everywhere I look I see fire; that which isn't flint is tinder, and the whole world sparks and flames.

Dillard talks about the extravagances of the universe a great deal in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, and I get it.  She's looking at all of the insects and parasites, asteroids and luna moths, and she's wondering at the profligate hand of the Creator, who doesn't seem to tire of being generous in the act of creation.  In all the Sunday school classes I've been teacher or student, I have covered the subject of God's bounty many times.

Today, however, I am not really sensing Divine generosity in my life.  You see, the health care organization for which I labor (one of the many derbies I wear during the week) has decided to change its health insurance plan, supposedly to give the employees more "options."  Well, the option that works best for me and my family will double the premiums deducted from each of my paychecks.  In short, at the beginning of 2017, I will go from barely squeaking by to "Holy shit!  How am I going to pay this bill?"

I can't really choose a different option because of my diabetes (I have an insulin pump) and my wife's bipolar (she needs to see specialist doctors on a routine basis).  My son has ADHD, and his medications need to be monitored.  Thank God my daughter does not have a chronic health issue.

So, here I am this evening, wondering in a different way than Dillard at the Creator's profligate hand.  Not really sensing the recklessly abundant nature of the universe.  In fact, for the last couple of years, I've been settling for the God of Just Enough.  Now, it looks like I'm going to be praying to the God of How the Hell am I Going to do This.

I'm not complaining.  Just sort of working through a day-long panic attack.

Tonight, Saint Marty gives thanks for alcohol and hot chocolate.