Garbage Nose

I could never be a scholar. I don't have what it takes to dispassionately sift through reams of material, do primary research, synthesize points of view, defend, critique, etc. Whatever this blog is...it ain't that. For me, blogging has basically taken the place of journaling. I'm still not all that comfortable "journaling" for all the world to see because it does seem a little voyeuristic to me. Part of me wonders, "Why would anyone publish their journal?" I don't know - I'll leave it for the scholars to figure out. In the mean time...

My wife fixed a really nice dinner last night. She went to a lot of trouble chopping a number of vegetables to makes us a lenten burrito dinner since it was Wednesday (fast day). She had been running around all day and was tired...but she did it anyway. And it was good. But the onions created stinky garbage...which would eventually uncover some stinkiness in my heart.

In the middle of the night, my over-sensitive nose (genetic) woke me up complaining about the stinky garbage. Without thinking I said out loud, "Whoa! That garbage stinks!" I was pissed-off because I woke up and hadn't had a good night's sleep the night before, but I should not have said anything out loud - because it woke Macrina up. Naturally, she didn't appreciate it. You can write your own version of the rest because I'm pleading the 5th. Regardless, I left the house this morning at odds with my wife, who if you'll recall, had fixed us a really nice dinner the night before.

I ride the train to work in the mornings which gives me time to listen to tapes. I chose one, and God overruled my choice in a rather amusing way. (I don't want to take the space to explain, but if you ask via comment, I'll fill you in.) The title of the tape was Sin: Primordial, Generational, Personal by Fr. Thomas Hopko. I can't tell you exactly what happened on the train ride this morning except to say a conduit opened up between my wounded heart and heaven. God comforted me, even though because of my actions of the previous night (all my life really) I had no reason to expect it. As a result, my hardened heart softened a little. I wrote my wife when I got to work and apologized for my self-centeredness - I'll let you know how it works out.

This is not a new process for me by now, but it is always a surprising process. Like the prodigal son, I am continually "waking up" in the middle of a pig-pen and thinking, "what the hell did I do that for?" Does it ever get any better than this in a fallen world? Does it need to? I don't know the answer to either question at the moment and I don't much care because for a glorious few hours my heart is simply grateful to be the recipient of such Divine condescension. My Father killed the fatted calf, put a ring on my finger, and covered me with a beautiful robe. Whoa!