Friday, November 14, 2008

from my notebook Aug 2008

Tom Waits is playing (a slow one) across the hall in the lounge. (It's not a long distance, but it's so gratifying to be able to say 'across the hall' in another room after the rather more cramped atmosphere of our last house, from which we moved only recenlty.) BBC Radio Four is playing (also across the hall, diagonally) in the kitchen where Andie is working at various things. I'm in my study (finally! after so long having an 'office' in our bedroom) reading a pop level Donald Guthrie commentary on Ephesians. It's a 70s paperback, pages falling out, with an obnoxious red and yellow cover featuring a soul-destroyingly ugly photo of an open Bible with a rainbow superimposed to end upon its pages. But I wasn't even noticing that. I was noticing the pleasing symmetry of the approaching hour of 11:00, the children several hours in their beds, Waits and the BBC presenters competing for aural attention, blending rather well, and Guthrie's expert terse comments under my mind's perusal.

I'm tired, in more ways than one. I have several diverse anxieties pulling at my heart. I am experiencing my frequent malaise in the face of a number of upcoming writing/preaching projects, notwithstanding the thrill it gives me to be privileged to be part of the them, and the pleasing prospect it is to have good work before one to start chipping away at, shaping it up toward an at least presentable, if not finished, product.

Despite these vaguely dubious feelings, the afforementioned scene describes one of the truly fine moments in life. And there's Radio 4 announcing the hour. We have to try to wind down toward sleep now. Waits has moved through some of his amusing burlesques and is now driving home a solid, Western, forward-moving stomp. That's not wind-down music. Well, fine human scenes can't always fade out as smoothly as they emerge.

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'THERE ARE THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT. WE'RE THE ONES WHO BUMP BACK.' (BPRD)