Monday Morning Confessional

I confess that I don’t get to play guitar as much as I used to, so when I do my fingers hurt because my calluses are all but gone. To alleviate the pain, I will sometimes put superglue on my fingers to make them tougher. I confess that while applying superglue to my fingers yesterday so I could lead worship w/out crying like a little baby, I got a superglue on my new jeans… so we are back to the jeans saga. I confess that I have no idea how to get superglue out of denim without ruining the fabric. I confess that this means I will probably have to either 1) walk around with a big ole dark spot on my jeans, 2) use a solvent and walk around with a big ole faded spot on my jeans, 3) buy new jeans. I confess to feeling anger over this and am looking for another option.

I confess that my least favorite season of the year is summer, and I’m feeling very sad that it is upon us. My favorite seasons are, in order: fall, winter, spring, and my least favorite, summer which I gripe about consistently. I have many reasons to hate the summer, but all of them center on the fact that it is hot. I confess that although it does not challenge my summer hatred, my loathing of spring has grown considerably over the past few years. Spring sucks; sucks I say. Allergies are slamming everyone in my family, itchy eyes, sneezing, running nose, can’t sleep… ugh! The wind goes nuts for no apparent reason other than to spread more allergens. Weather is unpredictable. Violent storms kill people, destroy homes, and ruin crops. I confess that I think spring is a bully and at the end all you get is summer – what a rip.

I confess that I am pain averse. I confess that I’m afraid to suffer, and will go much too far out of the way avoid it. One of my favorite Merton quotes says, “The more you try to avoid suffering the more you suffer because smaller and more insignificant things begin to torture you in proportion to your fear of being hurt.” (See above entries on super-glue and spring/summer hatred… what a little wuss I am). I confess that nearly all of my pain is self-inflicted, and that I am not nearly grateful enough for the blessings of my life.

I confess that I do not have a handle on my schedule and pace of life right now. I confess that this is directly tied to ambition – my nadir. I confess that I am often carried away by my own concerns, surrendered to the demands of the commitments I’ve made so that I can feel like a big damn deal. I confess that this all shapes my soul in ways which make me less human and leaves me worse off than if I would have lived with no other ambition other than to learn how to pray and to love.