Polishing the Titanic's deck chairs
Enjoying midday chai after successfully running a couple of errands. I note "successfully" because lately I've felt thwarted when I try to accomplish even the simplest things. So that's good.
With more things ticked off on the to-do list, it'd be nice to have a grounded sense of what I'm doing. I get the day-to-day stuff and necessities, but the big picture feels a lot fuzzier. barlow_girl and I have talked about the possibility of home ownership, and that alone fuzzes things up considerably. In the Seattle market, it's always seemed like a pipe dream, and even now with price and rate drops I wonder if it's too soon (though not too soon to think about, which is all we're doing).
It doesn't take long for economics to put a knot of futility in my gut, not because we don't have enough, but because the larger landscape seems based on nearly nothing-we all just keep moving and hope the music doesn't stop, because when it does, it's pretty darned unlikely that there'll be enough chairs for everyone to have a seat (because there already aren't). I'm foolish for only considering God's promises at the end of that train of thought; that's a sure sign that I'm more disconnected from the Vine than I'm intended to be.
In the meantime, I should probably allow myself to be thankful for empty spaces that turn my thoughts to Him. That's what Lent is supposed to be about, after all.
With more things ticked off on the to-do list, it'd be nice to have a grounded sense of what I'm doing. I get the day-to-day stuff and necessities, but the big picture feels a lot fuzzier. barlow_girl and I have talked about the possibility of home ownership, and that alone fuzzes things up considerably. In the Seattle market, it's always seemed like a pipe dream, and even now with price and rate drops I wonder if it's too soon (though not too soon to think about, which is all we're doing).
It doesn't take long for economics to put a knot of futility in my gut, not because we don't have enough, but because the larger landscape seems based on nearly nothing-we all just keep moving and hope the music doesn't stop, because when it does, it's pretty darned unlikely that there'll be enough chairs for everyone to have a seat (because there already aren't). I'm foolish for only considering God's promises at the end of that train of thought; that's a sure sign that I'm more disconnected from the Vine than I'm intended to be.
In the meantime, I should probably allow myself to be thankful for empty spaces that turn my thoughts to Him. That's what Lent is supposed to be about, after all.