The Things I Would, I Do Not

Borrowing from a beloved instructor, my daughter demanded, "highs and lows" as we hunched over our individual portions from the new Mexican takeaway place in town.  It was an effort to connect during a rare convergence and I was grateful to her for it.  I worked to enter into that moment, to listen to the words drawn from each, rather than plan for my own.  She persisted -- she is strong that way -- and brought the question to me.  "High point of the day," I said, with an open look back over the fourteen hours, "was the feel of the heated seat when we climbed into the car at the end of the day."  And I relived that moment of enveloping rest after a long, hard, satisfying week of work.

Although l am instrinsically lazy, I am also most myself when I am productive.  Despite the hours I spend avoiding the things I must do, labor strengthens a sense of rightness in me.  I was made for a purpose.  Sometimes that involves folding the laundry and putting it away, rather than stopping at the transfer to the dryer.  On other occasions it can include grading papers, balancing the checkbook, and building order forms instead of allowing the accumulation of towers on my desks.  Every now and then I get to select colors, find solutions or review notes on a favorite author.  No matter the level of appeal, I usually have to drag myself to the task at hand -- as if the nature of its being required automatically puts me at enmity with it.  I war against the very things that benefit me.  And that innate rebellion includes how I eat, exercise, speak, or prioritize my time.  It is contrary to my nature to choose the things that are good for me.
I'm grateful God provides the grace to recognize the battle -- and the myriad of small victories for which He daily supplies the will and the strength.

Nestled into a spare two hours on a Saturday morning I am surrounded by the clutter of a charging cell phone that I was too tired to connect last night, the French press I brought up to my room so that I didn't have to leave this space for a second cup, something to read and a method for writing.  This might count as the high for today -- unless the rules include the memory of a couple of hours spent on a Friday evening talking over the ups and downs of a day with people I love to know.

There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find satisfaction in his toil. This, I saw, is from the hand of God...