I have nothing against Mondays as far as days go. But they are getting harder and harder for me to deal with. It's not even about going to work. There is no real "job" to go to. It's the coming down, and knowing that I need to do it all over again that sucks. Wondering if I'll make it to the next one. Knowing that in all probability it will be no different. The same thing over and over.Someone has said that most pastors secretly resign every Monday. You lay in bed and wonder if you should even get up. Of course, most people who know those pastors probably secretly want to resign from church every Sunday.
I feel like I can say less and less on this blog. I feel like I can say less and less to the people in my church. The weight of responsibility is becoming unbearable. I get the sense I am not making sense; that no one even knows what I'm saying; that I am speaking a foreign language sometimes; and I don't really even know what I'm talking about. And I don't know what to do. There is no place in my particular tribe for people like me to go with questions like this or at times like this. There is no one to talk to. I know the people in my church don't want me talking about stuff like this to them. They just want stuff "from me." Which isn't their fault, it's just the way it is. So is the only alternative to just quit and live in the car? I mean, I couldn't get unemployment, I would have to move out of the church's house, I have no discernible skills that are of use in the real world. Ugh.
Don't worry, it's just another Monday. One foot in front of the other.
This past weekend (I mean: Friday) we went to Jane's mom's house. Her mom died a year ago next month. The house still looks like it did then. I don't know what we thought we were going to do. You know, Jane has 3 brothers that live right there, but she is expected to take care of everything from 300 miles away. Pisses me off.
We didn't accomplish a whole lot. We have some stuff stored there from when we first moved away. Most of it our kids' clothes and toys from when they were little; some of our wedding stuff. It was kind of difficult opening a box with Carrie's dolls and stuffed animals; a box that had all of Isaac's old "outfits" he used to dress up in (Batman, Robin Hood, etc.). Their teeny shoes and hats and coats. We brought some of it back with us. It was also weird being in the house. It's weird just going back to where we used to live, really. They say you can never go home again, but... I dunno. One morning as I walked Bogey down the street... it just seemed so.... right. I like the small town, our street on the edge of town, the trees, cornfields, people waving as they drive by. But then it's gone. It leaves me wondering if there even is a place called home. Not on Monday's there isn't.
This blog is going nowhere. This post is going nowhere. I am going nowhere.
There won't be any comments. I don't want to talk about it. It's just me. No offense, but I can't give you anything. I have nothing for you and even if I did, I don't know that I could give it because I'm pretty much running on empty. Tomorrow is Tuesday though. I hope it gets here fast. I dunno....