Waiting For The Other Shoe...

...to drop.

I really thought I'd hear what my "penance" (as my relapsed-Catholic co-worker refered to it) would be. But nope. Not a word. Silence from the Home Office is almost worse than the punishment my fertile mind has dredged up in the last couple of weeks. And sitting at work doing what amounts to holding down my chair is almost as bad as sitting at home doing what amounts to holding down the sofa.

Back to my previous post.

Sometimes my faith takes a beating. Crisis has a way of focusing one's attention to one's problems. It's like taking the dark sunglasses off and seeing the rest of the world.

My fear is, that in my arrogance and pride, I have also been selfish. Have I neglected my children's needs? My wife's? And for how long? My wife constantly tells me I'm a good man and a good father and a good husband. But I often don't feel that way. My motivation to succeed is to provide for my family's needs. Their physical needs are being met, no doubt, but how am I doing on the mental and spiritual side? I guess I should ask them, huh!

Do I have salvation or a relationship with the God of the Universe? Somedays it seems as if I'm saved by the skin of my teeth; that only because God is a God of mercy and grace do I have my ticket to heaven. Somedays it seems that God and I are pals; albeit a pal who just also happens to have created the Universe. Sometimes is seems like I'm doing all the right things and sometimes I feel like I couldn't do the right thing if it was spelled out for me and someone led me by the hand. All relationships take work. Nothing comes easy in this world...at least not for long.

What I'm really afraid of is that God will ask me to do something I don't want to do. Then I feel guilty for not wanting to do something that God might ask me to do because I don't want my cushy life to evaporate. I don't want my wife and kids to worry about food, shelter and clothing. Then I remember that there are those in the world who rely on God every day for just food, shelter and clothing.

It's a whirling dervish this life of faith I have. And I guess I'm not alone. Others have said their lives are swimming in the same whirlpool as I. Some of us are better swimmers than others. (Now where did I put my water wings??)

Eric