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RUST
ON MY SOUL (A Novel) (Published by Bridge Press in 1985 & Distributed
Internationally)
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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
view an abundance of unusual stories
by Neil Wyrick go to his other blog ONE A
DAY, YOUR SPIRITUAL VITAMINS
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