The Stingy Seamripper

Tonight, I'm coming out of blog-hiding to share something that I wrote a couple years ago and recently re-discovered in an old journal.  The other night, as I was lying in bed, wrestling with unsettling thoughts and unable to sleep, I felt drawn to this old journal, which was tucked under my nightstand.  I like journals, so I've had a lot.  This one's only significance is that it's the only one in which I filled every page.  Not that it's a great accomplishment, in the grand scheme of things, but if none of my other myriad journals survive, I hope this one does.  It's the one that sounds most like who I'd like to be.  It sounds like the me that I am when I let God take the controls. Some posts are not much more than rambling, some are troubled, some are angry, but they all have a stillness about them.  Even those nights when I was upset about something, there was still a sense of knowing that God would see me through it.  I remember it as a time of quiet c

On this, the day following this year’s NCAA championship game and living in the great commonwealth of Kentucky, I can’t help but be painfully aware of the angst some of my fellow natives are feeling today.   Yes, the University of Louisville achieved victory last night and some other team was forced to accept defeat.   From the small details I’ve picked up here and there, that other team, Michigan something I think, played well enough, but just couldn’t quite hack it.   Obviously, my sports knowledge is lacking, but I’d say at this point that pretty much covers the basics. I’m not a sports person, but I think even if I were my mind would have been elsewhere as I rose this morning.  As I look out across my front yard at the world coming to life with the many-thousandth springtime miracle, my thoughts are drawn away to death and defeat.  For the past few weeks, I’ve considered our adversary, Satan, and how he works on us.  How he goes to and fro.  How he seeks our children, our