I have, on several recent occasions, had opportunity to feel the effects of sitting long on a hard wooden chair. And, I suppose, the more difficult part of sitting on that chair has been to sit there and quietly observe the conversation at the table. I’m not sure if I can sit there quietly bcz I have had increasing experience sitting there or if incredulity keeps me quiet. I know that a slack jaw keeps me quiet on a whole bunch of things — such as the sitting in stunned silence at the progression of the erosion of faith in the church.
So, the hard wooden chair…
I’ve sat listening to various arguments and comments extolling the virtues of a presidential candidate and the flaws and short comings of the other. I’ve listened to convictions, preconceptions and misconceptions and insinuations in discussions about qualifications, abilities, attributes, inexperience, successes, incompetency and a whole lot more concerning the various presidential candidates. I cannot count the number of times I listen and come to the exact opposite conclusion to the one sitting across the table. I shift on my chair… the firmness beneath me seems to increase and I wonder how long I will sit there quietly… quietly observing a conversation. Occasionally I muster courage to comment – occasionally I simply cannot refrain from a more lengthy observation.
Usually, though, it’s just plain easier to nod and smile — not in agreement — but as a form of self preservation. O, sure there’s tremendous temptation to fling out a few well articulated and carefully aimed zingers, cheeky comments or subtle innuendos. It’s easy for us as women to load up a comment, time it just right for maximum impact. I find I sit there, and think sort of Ann of Green Gables-ish: “… but if you only knew how many things I want to say and don’t…”
I sort of blog this way, too. But not always.
I’m working on a talk I’ll be giving at a monthly women’s meeting tomorrow night – I’m continuing on through Titus2 as ‘scheduled’ for the year. As I look out my window just now, I see our white picket fence with the little hearts cut out of each picket and then there’re the long lacy branches of the huge old weeping willow tree nearly touching the shadowy sunshine on the soft green grass… and I marvel and the timing or timeliness of this message I’m working on. The ‘why’ behind the mandate is what’s particularly thought provoking to me these days. The message this month is: “…to be keepers at home” and, as has been the motivating reason, I will, as I do each month, stress that the basis for living out this charge given to women is: “that the Word of God be not blasphemed.” Titus 2.5 See? Timely.
The Word is sometimes like a hard wooden chair. It’s so solid. You can stand on it.
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Mr. Common Sense. Mr.