RUST ON MY SOUL (23rd episode in series)

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On Tuesday and Thursday a variety of other subjects are convered.
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GO BACK TO APRIL 13TH AND START THE SERIES.
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These thoughts are added to each Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday
If you would like to share this blog with a friend, go to the bottom and click on TELL A FRIEND
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RUST ON MY SOUL (A Novel) (Published by Bridge Press in 1985 & Distributed Internationally) (A new Series that began on Tues April 13th and will continue every Tuesday thereafter until finished) (Thursday & Sunday will continue to cover a variety of subjects as in the past)
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INTRODUCTION (Repeated for those new to the series)

In an old loose leaf notebook, Thomas Kettering wrote when there was a cry from his heart. He wrote when his inner longing spilled over into the reality of his days. He did not write every day, only when he felt he must. How often he wrote or when is not important. The journey is what counts, for it is a diary about all of us, to all of us. “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” and even a stumble is a step.

Midmorning

Margaret, my secretary, acts this morning as if someone left her psyche out in the rain overnight. But then, my disposition hasn’t been anything to brag about recently, either.

What’s wrong with us?

Why for all these years have we mushed along toward civilized madness? If creature comforts were all that we needed having them should make us happy all the time.

Nancy and I have developed a talent for complaint. The more we have the less we’re satisfied. I can’t believe that’s a mathematical law. Does misery love wealth and poverty with equal vigor?

Evening

It’s a night for writing. A storm rages outside the rain beats against the windows and the wind blows in restless gusts, bending low the trees on our hill. It is as if they are in prayer to ease their turmoil. A strange word picture for a man who seldom prays. Is it my soul questing or mere coincidence?

The electricity has been off for half an hour. I hope it will come back on soon. Too much darkness for too long causes more than frustration; it becomes frightening. When did I first start the slow but steady darkening of my soul? And why have I now reached a point where I cry out for light to find my way home? To see beyond an external home. I mean, if I am not careful I’ll be singing hymns.

Why do I rebel when I start to get religious? Even here in this diary, where no one else would know? Is there a difference between religion and finding God?

All that has happened in a power outage and I’m starting to prach a sermon to this congregation of one.

I’m no atheist; I never have been. I’ve never the inclination to completely reject God. I’m more of a religious drifter, content with handouts. I look at the riches of heaven from afar, but I’m afraid of the responsibilities that go with them.

Afternoon

The turbulence came from the west and moved on to the east; this morning the sun shimmered on a wet dawn and the air was clear. A storm and a new bright dawn are never far away from each other. Is this me?

A storm always looking for a bright new dawn?

I got a promotion this morning. Another human being gave me a prize and the praise was pure joy. For awhile I didn’t think of my troubles, or my pains, or my weariness. They didn’t change, but for a short time I did.

When I am overcome by a storm of fear do I more easily cast off pretense? When the sky is blue, and there is money in my bank account, and at least more has been right in my day than wrong, do I let a little too much arrogance filter through?

When I have “the world by the tail” am I less likely to concern myself with its Omnipotent Architect?

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TO BE CONTINUED NEXT TUESDAY (If You Missed the beginning on Tuesday April 13th
GO BACK AND CATCH UP
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To view an abundance of unusual stories by Neil Wyrick go to his other blog ONE A DAY, YOUR SPIRITUAL VITAMINS

Click on the following URL
http://oneadayyourspiritualvitamins.blogspot.com/
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This novel can be purchased on amazon.com
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