Back to School

I live in uptown Portland and work out in the Burbs while my son Matt lives in the Burbs and works in uptown Portland. So he and I have a commuting arrangement that might just get us an honorable mention in the Oregon Green Hall of Fame. I ride the commuter train from downtown Portland to a Park 'n Ride where Matt drops his car off and catches the commuter train downtown while I drive his car the rest of the way to work. However, due to a practiced lack of communication between us, there was no car parked in the Park 'n Ride this morning. While muttering things I shouldn't under my breath, I realized I had two choices: I could choose to believe in entropy, Murphy, the devil, and/or all the above and allow irritation to grow into anger, bitterness, and resentment and then ride the inevitable waves of depression that follows in their wake. Or I could pay attention to what I had been reading 15 minutes earlier during my train ride (Mother Gavrilia, the Ascetic of Love) and believe in a good God who arranges all things. I realized in a fleeting moment of clarity that it is these small things that make or break me. I often wonder why my heart is so cold and why I struggle in relationships the way I do. I need to go back to school. I need to learn the simple things before I can master the bigger things.