Shambly and Scintillating

I sent this to Liann today; it just came out of my fingers when I typed. She liked it and said I ought to bloggy it.

I find I still keep trying, in spite of my overt intentions to embrace both joy and sorrow, simplicity and unavoidable difficulties, to smooth the water I swim in and make the air as still and comfortable to me as possible. My mind and mouth speak one thing: "There is no embracing you without the uncontrollable hard, God!", but my heart goes surreptitiously about the day with a trowel trying to smooth the cement, the atmosphere, the ocean--whatever I am in at the moment--and even trying to smooth my own interaction with the world, making me bring less of me to it. So very odd.

I war with myself. Paul was pretty smart.

I was worried about the fact that it was a huge mixed metaphor, but considering I am the daughter of a mixed metaphor master, she said I should own my heritage, and quit sweating about it because it ministered to her. Maybe it will minister to someone else, too...you never know.

I also told her

Your body is a shambly tent, but your heart is so gorgeous and restored and scintillating.

It applies to just how Jesus works in all of us, really (except Christian decathletes, maybe--their bodies are not so shambly). Lianni liked it, but she is jealous because she never thinks to use the word "scintillating".

Well, I never think to memorize all the American presidents in order. We're even, I think :)