This week is crazy week for me. I received the proof of the catechist-book manuscript late last week, and my comments are due tomorrow. (I found a few typos, sat on my hands in spots where I think maybe the wording could be a tiny bit better, Jennifer, and am about to get into a conversation about why I think my way is the best way when it comes to commas.) Meanwhile, I’d offered to do a talk at the local bookshop, and that’s tonight. Saturday is the Eucharistic procession to the SC state house, which is to the best of my knowledge the first time that’s ever happened in history.
And then there’s my regular life. Taking the Family Honor course (I’m behind schedule), teaching math and handwriting through the summer, because . . . you know why. Thinking about killing fire ants (what is the best way?), thinking about making a new spot for the load of firewood that showed up yesterday, wondering where my desk went, again, and who stole my calendar?
The reason I list all that, is because that’s what discipleship looks like for me.
My life did not always look like this.
That is, my life has always looked crazy. Crazy Week is most weeks I can remember, ever, since it’s been in my power to fill my time up this way.
What I figured out about myself a few years ago, is that I’m not made for moderation. I’m going to add stuff until I’m not bored, and until I do have enough to keep me silly busy, because I’m happiest when I’m doing stuff. I get cranky and unpleasant if I’m not occupied with something.
The difference discipleship makes, is that I care what that stuff is. I want my life to be full of things that matter. And if I don’t fill my time with God, I’m going to fill it with something else. I pray better that way, anyhow. Desperation is my straightest route to piety.
With those thoughts, I’m going to slip off to bookmark a pile of Bibles at Matthew 5:1, so look that this: A good post on evangelizing teens, Don’t Dumb it Down version.
–> I found the post very helpful for myself, as I’m about sick of hearing what I have to say about the beatitudes in my 17-minute 10-minute talk, and I needed the reminder that these topics are a lot less boring if you haven’t heard the same talk five times in twenty-four hours. I keep reminding myself that if people wanted to hear jokes, they’d watch a sitcom, and there’s a decent chance folks turning out a Catholic bookstore want to hear the Gospel instead.
I guess if they don’t, they’ll learn their lesson.