state farm

people blow up their lives.  they put a stick of dynamite in their mouths and they light the fuse.

i’ve done that.

the past few years of my life, those around me wouldn’t let me.  and god wouldn’t let me.  there would come a gust of wind and right before i set to light it, my fire would go out.  i’d try again and those closest to me would see me trying out of the corner of their eye and they’d snatch it out from my lips.

i’d find another way.

thwarted plans are hard to take.  when we are on a mission to self destruct and if it doesn’t work out, stay clear of that one.  siren songs are still sung by the sources that would bring us to the water’s edge and reach up a pale, beckoning arm and the grip would not let go until the air leaves the chest.

there is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end leads to death.

the state farm insurance jingle goes like this, “like a good neighbor, state farm is there.”  you know it.  insurance replacing people.  i have a mennonite friend who tells that part of living out that faith includes not purchasing insurance.  your community is your insurance.  if disaster strikes, they’ll build your house back up.

i’m feeling as unable as insurance is suppose to make me feel.  what can i do?  i’m hearing small explosions in the houses around me.  what’s a good neighbor to do?

do not judge.  for the measure with which you judge will be given back to you.

lord.  help me to care.  help me get pass judging.  break my heart again.  thank you, thank you, thank you.  i have so much to say thank you for, but there is more than one way to grow cataracts to you god.  let me see what you see and keep my heart from becoming too content to feel the pain around me.