When the World Turns
This morning I woke up with a terrible case of vertigo. After having a rough weekend battling pain from my fibromyalgia, I was hoping to start the week feeling better and ready to tackle my growing to-do list. But, alas, such was not the case.
Instead, I lay in bed trying to get my world to stop spinning. Every time I shifted my head even slightly, the room whirled around me like I was trapped on some cruel amusement park ride. Tess could sense something was wrong and snuggled up closely as if to reassure me with her steady presence.
"So, I guess it's just going to be one of those days!" I mumbled, closing my eyes against the dizziness.
Have you ever felt that way? Not necessarily dealing with vertigo, but with the sensation that your entire life is spinning out of control?
Finding Bugs Bunny in a Broken World
The other day, I was browsing YouTube, searching for videos to help me learn about one of the latest software updates in the writing world. Because I'd been searching the topic a lot lately, many related videos were popping up. But it wasn't the educational content that ultimately captured my attention. No, it was an hour-long compilation of Looney Tunes.
Yes, the original Looney Tunes that I grew up on. Those classic cartoons featuring Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Elmer Fudd, and the whole gang. Despite my busy schedule and the educational videos I had previously been searching for, I decided to indulge in "just a few minutes" of nostalgic animation.
Those few minutes quickly turned into half an hour as I sat at my desk, giggling like a schoolgirl. There was Bugs, munching his carrot and delivering his iconic "What's up, Doc?"
Learning to Unload Before We Overload
Life in rural Wales comes with its own peculiar challenges, not the least of which is grocery shopping. When the nearest proper supermarket is a good thirty minutes away, online ordering becomes less of a convenience and more of a necessity. Jason and I have our system down to a science. The delivery arrives in stackable plastic crates, we unload everything, and then return the empty crates to the driver.
We even have our division of labor sorted. Jason tackles the refrigerated and frozen items while I handle the pantry goods. It works seamlessly... well, most of the time.
During our most recent delivery, Jason gestured toward what appeared to be a single crate sitting on our kitchen table. "That's all pantry stuff," he said casually, already turning his attention to the cold goods.
I nodded, reaching for the handles of what I presumed was one solitary crate. I'd taken precisely two steps when physics delivered a painful lesson.
When Plans Go Pear-Shaped
Have you ever had one of those days where Murphy's Law isn't just a saying but your personal reality? Jason and I experienced that miserable phenomenon this week. It began with my writing. Every task I attempted was met with utter frustration. What should have taken a couple of minutes ended up taking over an hour. It seemed like no matter which way I turned, I encountered a stumbling block or a brick wall. Seriously?
When we finally surrendered to the technological gremlins and decided to take our daily walk with Tess, the Welsh weather joined the conspiracy. The moment we stepped outside, the clouds unleashed what felt like the entire Irish Sea upon our heads. Lovely!
"It's just a light drizzle," Jason said optimistically as we trudged along, our clothes growing heavier with each step. By the time we made it home, we resembled three drowned rats (though Tess, admittedly, looked the most pitiful).
When Success Looks Like Failure
This week, I read about a man in ministry who dedicated his entire lifetime to his mission field. He did everything God asked of him and preached with passion and conviction. Day after day, year after year, he faithfully delivered God's message.
However, after a lifetime of service, this devoted minister had no converts to show for his efforts. Not one soul saved. Not a single person who repented of their sins and accepted the message he preached.
Many would look at this man and shake their heads in pity or, worse, ridicule. Armchair critics would be quick to make assessments:
"Perhaps he didn't preach hard enough."
"Maybe his heart wasn't right with God."
"He probably used the wrong outreach methods."
"His theology must have been flawed."
After all, if he had been doing things correctly, surely someone would have responded!