I was on my knees at the time because I was just plumb out of steam. At work, where I had succeeded for 10 years, things were falling apart. It may not have been my fault that the economy had collapsed, but it was my fault that our profit and margins had also. I was expected to work miracles and do it for free. My meetings with the national sales manager had degenerated into shouting matches. My daughter had started acting like a hormonal teenager with psychiatric problems. She'd also become a sexual degenerate and went dark. When I tried to deal with her, my in laws would involve themselves and encourage and enable my daughter and wouldn't listen to me at all. I asked - and then told them to stay out of it and mind their own business and they laughed at me. The friction was straining my marriage to the breaking point as my wife was caught in the middle of a family trying to tear itself apart. In the middle of Dawg Island, amidst that peaceful masterpiece of snow and perfection - I was in chaos. My issues were as unique and intricate and complicated has that single tiny snowflake resting on my winter mitt - and exactly the same as anyone else that had family problems. I had no control over any of those things in my life or the people that were tearing it apart - and yet... here I was, on my knees, on Dawg Island, on a beautiful winter morn... and as much a part of that masterpiece of creation as that tiny snowflake resting on my mitt. I was pushed along by the same seemingly random breezes and winds as the ones that settled that snowflake on my mitt.
It was then that I met my Maker for the first time. I couldn't speak to Him, I couldn't see Him... but I knew He was there. Even though I've been through the old testament and I'm halfway through the old... that's all I know for now for sure in the empirical sense. It's enough. Somebody lit the fuse on the big bang, Somebody saw a purpose to this third rock from the sun, and maybe Somebody saw a need for me to be on Dawg Island studying a random snowflake on my mitt.
Dennis takes a good shot this.
His words are wise and are not lost on me.
How do you honour your parents, Dennis, when they dishonor you?
How do you treat your parents in a Christian way, when they sin against you, your kids, themselves, and God?
I'm not trying to be a dink, I'm asking because I don't know. I've lost my way.
At work I was expected to work miracles and do it for free and I couldn't do that. As a father I was supposed to...what? To lesbian social justice warriors, fathers are punching bags or live sacrifices. As a son in law, I was supposed to be a rich, respected millionaire to be a worthy mate for my wife. As a husband I was a failure because I couldn't do any of those things.
Maybe those other snow flakes are just being pushed by winds of their own? I think ol' Dennis might have missed the boat. Maybe the best thing to do is just go where the winds send us? And have the grace to accept it and embrace it? It's not like we have any choice in the matter. Perhaps the lesson is that you accept your lot because there are those in far worse places. There go I but for the grace of God and all that...
I'm taking a break from the job boards today. I slept in like a slob, had a great big breakfast Next I will put on my crime-fighting sweat pants and go sweep Dawg Island for senior delinquents. If I see any of you lot out there - don't expect any mercy. 😉
Have a great Humpday.