NOT MY OWN . . .

Lately, I am oft reminded that my mind and my thoughts are not my own. If they were, Scripture wouldn't tell us that we had to let Jesus take our thoughts captive. The implication is, of course, that if Jesus doesn't, someone or something else will, and really, it's just always better that a ceaselessly-loving, ever-gracious, eternally-wise, and unerringly-merciful God take my thoughts captive than any other seemingly-worthy thing or person in the world.

But it's so true, isn't it? We -- especially the elite, educated, multi-degreed, upper-middle-class set with lots of letters after our names -- really pride ourselves over being able to control our thoughts, to come up with original thoughts, to exchange what we think are our thoughts and products of our own intellect. We like to think that as we are able to control the movements of our bodies, we also are able to control the movements of our minds and brains, and even hearts. Five minutes spent trying to get that television commercial's catchy-but-annoying jingle out of our heads should quickly dispel us of any such illusions.

Iiiiiiit's BACON!

And so it is that again, I'm a little stunned that my mind and heart are controlled today, not by myself, not even by God (I don't think, not yet), and not by the boob-tube ... but by the weather. Five days of glorious sunshine spoiled me and put a perma-pep in my step, and apparently loosened my brain a bit too, letting it go towards the inane and the soft. Today, I am glad to wake up to the sound of rain pattering against my windows, drumming on my roof. I am glad to see the misty grey of the atmosphere when I look outside, and I'm glad to hear the unique, heavy swish of car tires driving along wet roads. Today, already, my thoughts are a bit heavier. Not necessarily earth-shattering or life-changingly profound. Not sad or melancholy, even. Just heavier and quieter. I am very glad for today.

***

POLICY-MAKING . . .

I admit that I've been following the latest immigration-policy news sporadically. I am, at times, the queen of denial, and so when there is news that is somewhat unappetizing to me, I'll only pay attention if and when I want to.

But now, they're actually sending people to jail.

I don't know what to think, really. I don't know where my loyalties are supposed to lie. I don't know yet where my faith calls me to stand in this debate, and what if it makes me stand in a place different from where my earthly political views lead me to?

My family rooted here completely legally -- invited, even, by the government in the 70s when health-care professionals were in dire need in this country. What would my life have been like if we weren't able to call the United States "home?" For all of its ups and downs, ain't no place like home, and it still is, I'm convinced, the land of opportunity and the place where dreams come true -- the only such place in this world, if I may be so bold. I think that it would be selfish, irresponsible, wrong, merciless, to cut such off from the rest of the world. And I think that it's horribly ironic that policy would be set to boot people out of this country who are working in jobs that no "American" would deign to do! Surely, evicting 11 million residents can't be good for the American economy. But then I think, if there is a legal way to enter this country and to stay here, should not that course be taken? Any other way is physically dangerous, and now, criminal. It's not a "we did it so they should too" argument. It's just that ... well, I guess this is where my black-and-white worldview comes into play. The rules are the rules, and aren't there already too many real and fabricated exceptions?

I'm not schooled enough to enter into this debate. All I know is this: I'm sad that people want to come and live in the United States because they see it as a place of hope and betterment and life, and that they are now being arrested and detained for daring to hope. Everything in between, I know, is so complicated, but that doesn't mean there isn't room for compassion.

***

SNOTS . . .

And now, just because this is how I am, I'm going to talk about my nasal mucus. I've been stricken with my third cold of the year -- already! So unusual, because odd blood counts and faulty knees aside, I'm largely a very healthy lady. Still, in my ever-persistent effort to be a more optimistic person, I have to offer one small good and gratifying aspect of being sick.

I love blowing my nose in the morning. I don't know all the science that happens overnight when one is felled with a cold. I'm guessing things move, harden, become gelatinous, whatever. Gag. Whatever processes my body goes through while I sleep, all I know is that when I wake up, I'm all clogged up and I need to be free. A couple of minutes of walking around and letting gravity do its work, or maybe taking a hot shower if I feel so motivated, and voila! (Or wa-la!, as some are wont to say.) I'm ready to blow.

It's amazing what comes out. It feels like EVERYthing comes out. And my, is it colourful. What is it they say? If it's clear, you're good; if it's not, then there's an infection. Well, my friends, I have SOME sort of crazy infection going on, and the weirdo in me loves the fact that it all comes out every morning in the first tissue of the day.

Gross. Gag. Sorry to have nauseated all of you. But I offer you this benefit of having a cold, because it really is a benefit. After blowing my nose and having all that overnight yuck come out, I feel SO GOOD. I can BREATHE. And I have concrete evidence that whatever was in there is no longer in there. So few things in life are so concrete and prove-able. I'm taking what I can get.

***

COZY THINGS . . .

Hugs and kisses. Being wrapped up. Inside jokes. Reading entwined. Needing. Nourishing. A glance being all it takes to erupt into gales of uncontrollable laughter. Not being grossed out. Mi casa es su casa. Good morning.

***

WALKING THE WALK . . .

Lately, there is a huge push by American Christians -- largely from the Southern Bible belt, actually -- to conserve the environment and to care for Creation as God does. (They are even scaring Shrub, what with midterm elections coming up, and so few Republicans wanting to speak out FOR the environment!)

I think this is SO. FREAKIN'. GREAT. It's just so perfect, and it's so right, and it's so biblical.

But I'm rolling around in a gas-guzzling 4Runner. URRRRGGGHHHH.

If I could, I'd trade it in for a manual-transmission hybrid 4Runner right now. Do they even make those? Sigh.

Well, how about this for a compromise then: I'll drive not-so-fast, so as to use the gas as wisely (and safely) as possible. I'll recycle all paper, metal, glass and plastic. I'll turn off the lights if they are not needed. I won't run the water while I'm brushing my teeth. I'll take even more efficient showers than I already do. I'll donate my old cell phone to a women's shelter to be refurbished into a 911 phone. I'll get in touch with as many companies as possible to lessen junk mail. I'll carpool. I'll bring my own bags to the grocery store. I'll buy more plants.

Whatever I can do ...

***

THAT LITTLE THING . . .

Is it just me, or does it seem like even in the midst of extreme joy and contentment, there is always one little thing that worries one's psyche, like a bothersome hangnail that you can't get rid of just yet, until you find a nailclipper with which to snip it off once and for all?

My dilemma of a few days ago -- to love and forgive, or to give up -- still stands. I'm so irritated by it now. I know all the things that I must do: view her as Christ does, as one already redeemed, forgiven, loved, changed. But I keep replaying in my head the things that I see with my own eyes: a repeated cycle of immaturity, severe passive-aggressive behavior, childishness, ingratiating fakeness. It's difficult to put on God's eyeballs. It's becoming easier to not care, actually ... at least the distance of not caring will make it more certain for me to not get hurt by her again.

Where is that nailclipper when I need it?

***

PESSIMISM . . .

Okay, okay, I know I was trying to be optimistic, but I have to say one thing that particularly sucks about this cold I'm suffering right now: it's wreaking havoc on my skin. The combination of fever and lack of sleep has caused one big fat mother of a fever blister / pimple to appear on my chin, and it hurts like @(*#&*&$%^#*^&$%.

Grrrr.