Why Not?

I have been arguing with one of my sons this afternoon. He is convinced that the world, at least the United States, is populated almost entirely by greedy, self serving persons. He argues that one person cannot make a difference, so why should he be involved in trying. In my heart, I want so badly to be able to change his mind. I want to be able to argue vehemently that one person can and often does make a difference. I want to be able to do those things, but I find that I can't. God doesn't want me as one of His people trying to make a difference. It seems to me that most of those that I have previously called on for spiritual support are no longer accessible. It seems that roadblocks rather than smoother roads are almost always the case. Job's wife advised him to "curse God and die." I won't curse God, but if I can't and won't ever be able to make a difference, including as an example to my son, why not just die?

Darkness

Mother Teresa once wrote: Now Father -- since 49 or 50 this terrible sense of loss -- this untold darkness -- this loneliness this continual longing for God -- which gives me that pain deep down in my heart -- Darkness is such that I really do not see -- neither with my mind nor with my reason -- the place of God in my soul is blank -- There is no God in me -- when the pain of longing is so great -- I just long & long for God -- and then it is that I feel -- He does not want me -- He is not there -- . . . God does not want me -- Sometimes -- I just hear my own heart cry out -- "My God" and nothing else comes -- The torture and pain I can't explain -- I would never ever try to compare myself with Mother Teresa, but in this particular case, I believe that I feel her darkness. God does not want me. Otherwise, where is my calling? What am I to do? Mother Teresa had a relationship with God through her calling as a nun since she was 12 years old. I'm 65 and don't feel like I have a relationship. How long can I wait? Am I to drive a school bus and do taxes for the rest of my life? Is this what my "calling" is to be? After one of my blog entries, not too long ago, a reader really took me to task. She let me know quickly that my acts, no matter how good they may be or how well meaning, weren't the answer to God's plan, but instead wanted to know how many souls I had brought to Christ? To how many have I told Christ's story? Her questions have some validity, but let me tell you that the school system doesn't want me leading a prayer service on the bus. H&R Block doesn't want me give my testimony to my clients either. I'm pretty simple minded and don't have much imagination. If God really wants me, why doesn't He understand that I don't understand. You did not choose me; I chose you and appointed you to go and bear much fruit, the kind of fruit that endures. John 15:16 I feel like the little, non-athletic fat kid that is picked last for the baseball game and sent out to left field where he won't be in the way and won't do much damage. There is no fruit for me to bear, only darkness.

Random Thoughts

Mostly, my thoughts aren't very good ones. I try not to think of any of them very often. I think that Sara and I could really use some time off, but with school bus driving and HRB, I don't see anything happening until late Spring. We are going to give up the dog, so that would be one less hindrance to a quick weekend off, but there is just too much else in the way. I think that I need to discuss my depression medicine with my doctor. However, the last time, he wanted me to see a specialist. This was not a rewarding experience! For one thing, the specialist immediately took me off of the medicine that I was and still am taking. In just a very few days, I was in a deep pit. I don't mind trying to change meds, but I can't wait for the 4 - 6 weeks that it normally takes for a new medicine to take over for the old one. That many weeks, that far out of balance, may be all it takes to push me completely over the edge, just as happened in Columbia, SC several years ago. The way I feel right now, it is far better to hide myself in the anonymity of a crowd than to be with one or two friends. Church and Sunday school aren't reaching me right now. If I never went back to Sunday school, it would be okay. There is no appeal to watching DVDs and answering simple questions. I think that I would much prefer strong discussion and even disagreement. I am probably going to try a visit to another class next Sunday. Actually, my whole relationship with God seems to be in bad shape. There is no easy way to explain this, but here are the thoughts that I had on it just the other day put in the terms of the food I eat. I was born eating mashed turnips. I don't like turnips, but even as a young person, I recognized that turnips were better than being hungry. When I accepted Christ as my savior, I switched from mashed turnips to mashed potatoes. Boy, did I ever like mashed potatoes. Sometimes, they even came with a bit of butter or, on very special occasions, with lots of gravy. Those were the times that I seemed the closest to God and it seemed to me that I was doing just a little bit to advance the Kingdom. In the summer of 2009, obstacles were overcome and hesitations answered by what I considered God's plan for me, and I spent 3 month on the Navajo Reservation working with the area Methodist Mission. I went from eating mashed potatoes to eating vanilla ice cream. During the best times on the reservation, I had chocolate syrup on that ice cream. Almost always, I felt like I was following God's plan for me and I wanted it to last forever, or at least to last much, much longer. When the funding dried up and I returned home, I just knew in my heart that God had even more exciting ways, for me to be in service to him, ready for me to undertake. Boy was I wrong! After almost 15 months back home, I've decided that God really doesn't have a plan for me after all. I am all the way back to eating mashed turnips and I find that I really don't care. If it is not plain to me that God actually wants me, why should I worry about finding and fulfilling His plan? Prayer is something from the past and church just a habit. My sons worry me. One of them either can't or won't find the time to talk to me about the one big issue that has me concerned, even though he is aware of the concern. I don't so much care what the future outcome of the issue might be as I want just to know what rationale is behind the current course of action, or inaction as the case may be.It is as if I am holding a lottery ticket and know already that I've matched 5 out of 6 numbers. My son knows what the 6th number is and knows whether or not I'll have a winning ticket, but doesn't seem too concerned about letting me know that 6th number. The other son refuses to protect himself against a future issue concerning money. Just how far into the future or how much money, who knows? But as surely as night follows day, it is coming. I'm glad he isn't Noah. I don't think he'd bother with building an ark until the water was waist deep. I still think that I would just like to quit on my everyday life. Unlike Maya Angelou, I do not "know why the caged bird sings."

The Big Yellow Bus II: Don't Look Back!

In 1980, Don Knotts and Tim Conway spoofed Sherlock Holmes in the movie, "The Private Eyes". Secondary to the theme of the movie, Tim Conway, as Dr. Tart, is always trying to convince Don Knotts, as Inspector Winship, that there is really a monster called a Wookilar. The Wookilar is a human body with a pig face and tusks. Don Knotts is a die hard nonbeliever. In the last scene of the movie, which I highly recommend by the way, Inspector Winship is driving away from a, maybe, haunted house where they have somehow managed to solve a murder mystery. Dr. Tart, still trying to make a believer of Inspector Winship, happens to glance into the rear view mirror. Sitting in the backseat looking right back is, you guessed it, a Wookilar, pig face, tusks, and all. At that point, the movie ends. The moral of this little recap is don't look into the rear view mirror, you may not like what's looking back. That is certainly the case with my afternoon middle school run. In the morning, I deliver middle-schoolers to class before 7 a.m. They are still pretty groggy and don't cause much grief. In the afternoon, it is a whole different story. I sometimes feel that the only difference between having a bus full of middle school aged kids behind you and backing up to a monkey cage is that at least the middle school kids aren't throwing their own feces at me (not that I'd put it past them if they happened to think of it!) I really don't mind the noise. Noise doesn't hurt anything. I don't even mind having to sweep up the candy wrappers and other trash that they dump on the floor, even though there is a trash box at the front and at the back of the bus. Trash doesn't hurt anyone. What I have a real problem with is constantly having to tell them to not hang out of the windows (No longer a problem. I caught several of them throwing things out of open windows today and will refuse to let them open any of them again.) and to sit down. I'm sure that they think these simple rules are put in place to keep them from enjoying themselves. Until an accident happens, no one will believe that something could happen to them. Even if an accident does happen, they still won't believe that they could ever be involved. What worries me most about this is their disregard for their own safety. What worries me next most is that my job could very well hinge on someone getting hurt. As far as behavior goes, my high-schoolers are two dream trips. There are two things that keep me level headed and in no fear of throttling one of them. The first is that it is too easy to remember what I was like at that age. Little do they know that, no matter how bad they are, I've set a bar that they won't ever be able to reach (my sincere apologies to anyone who suffered me during those years.) The other thing is that I try to always remember that I'm carrying a bus full of future teachers, preachers, nurses, policemen, contractors, managers, craftsmen, tradesmen, etc. I think about what we became as we aged (and aged our parents!) and most of us didn't turn out too badly. I'm hoping that these kids do the same. Some of my kids are cute and have actual personalities. Some are lumps. Some can speak English in complete sentences. Some use the "F" word regularly when they think that I'm not listening. Some will look me in the eye and ignore me completely when I wish them "good morning." Some will at least acknowledge that I spoke. Some will actually wish me good morning or something similar in return. The one thing that is certain is that I have no morning persons from either school level. I guess that there is at least one more thing that is certain. It is never dull driving my bus. Coming soon... the plumage and mating habits of the pre-teens and teens as observed by this bus driver.