Monday, December 10, 2007

D-town culture never ceases to humor me. Today Mom contacted the city hall to find out what number she should call for the police. “This one,” the receptionist answered. “Call here for the fire department, too.” I wouldn’t be surprised if that lady was also the mayor. The man we rented our U-haul to is also a mechanic and runs a gas station. Oh, and on the side, he’s also the town dog-catcher. Which, by the way, he apparently doesn’t work too hard at. As we looked for a home for Schnitzel, the wiener dog who has adopted us, we discovered that each of our neighbors had an average of three or four dogs already. Usually most of them “homed”, meaning dumped animals they’d taken in. When Mom talked to the previous owners of this home they laughed, “Yeah. All ten of our cats just showed up one at a time.” One neighbor commented, “We’ve already got a wiener dog. Showed up some time ago. Guess it’s your turn, now.”

Guess where I flung the soggy leaves from the gutters I cleaned this afternoon. Down onto the porch that I swept yesterday. If life is not a circle—an endless round of jobs—then I’ve somehow missed the definition of a circle.

Itchy feet and the restless urge have overtaken me again. I must be getting too settled in. Rain or mist has been the pervading weather for the last several days, leaving me sunless and cabin-locked, for the most part. This evening found me turning circles in the living room. It isn’t quite long enough for cartwheels, unfortunately. I started into Job this morning, but my mind feels completely saturated, like a sponge so soggy it can’t absorb any more. Asked what the Lord is teaching me, my mouth hangs open like a door with a loose hinge, and I can’t squeeze even one drop of refreshing water from my mind. Where do I even begin? I’ve been soaking it up, enjoying the time of solitude up here on the mountain, learning of the Lord. Now I’m ready to bound down into the valley again, desperate to seek and save His lost lambs. “My people perish for lack of knowledge” He says. “There’s a famine for hearing the word of the Lord.” “Beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news.” My spirit wanders around inside me. I catch myself daydreaming witnessing opportunities, replaying conversations, rethinking what I should have said. I want to go out, to seek, to serve, to give myself a sacrifice.

I’ve got to start at home.

Lord, I’m here where Thou hast placed me

Restlessness and doubt still chase me.

Am I needed here at home?

For Lord, the urge to roam has grown.

And I can justify desires

By claiming Thou hast lit the fires.

But Thou hast bid me be content

Where’er it is that Thou hast sent.