Friday, February 8

Gloria Dei vivens homo. Slowly and surely.

I don’t quite get why people get warm fuzzy realisations or dramatic revelations from their fathers in movies. Probably because I have a healthy relationship with my father . . . but having a conversation in which we talked about Arian and Pelagian heresies, grad school papers and mutual neighbourhood ogres brought up the subject of my career, which is depressing and left me very downcast.

So now I have a headache AND no money. No, it wasn’t anything my dad said--he is always very encouraging about that sort of thing. It’s just the prospects. We changed the subject to the upcoming elections.

. . . And I was just getting into the whole idea of being okay with being this odd. The work of Merton, Aristotle, Irenaus, and all my well-meaning friends has been found to be shaky and fragile. All it takes is trust that I’m doing the right thing. I know I can’t trust myself to do the right thing--it is God that does the right thing. So does that make it my relationship with God that needs the support.

Hey, at least I have something to work on, now. This I can do something about.

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