gettin' honest

so i'm going to see this counselor, right? in previous posts, he has often been cryptically alluded to as "my friend," and he is that, so i haven't exactly been lying. it's not that i've been hearing voices or receiving nightly visits from a shade deviously enfleshed in the guise of -- wouldn't you just know it -- 80s megastar rick springfield. nothing like that (as far as you know). i'm just convinced that it's generally a good idea for xtians to do 2 things sometime during the course of their lives: (1) go talk to a counselor, preferably another xtian; and (2) jump out of a plane (preferably strapped to a parachute).

i won't go into all the malanky little details (if you get that reference, you're a megastar in your own right, cinematically speaking), but suffice it to say that sometimes things just aren't exactly kosher. everything seems off kilter, sorta swirly. and it's weird b/c my life is pretty sweet right now: i'm a xtian who finally found a home in the liturgical church and who often cries @ mass, got a beautiful wife whom i love deeply, a squirrely little daughter who makes my insides melt, really good friends all around me, a church where i'm happy and becoming more involved in using what few gifts i possess, bang-up parents just a 90-minute drive away, sweltering temperatures and high humidi . . . well, not that last one. but all in all, things are swell. so -- and here is my conundrum -- why are things still just a little, well, "off"?

in a word: sin. there are dark and dreary places in my heart that oddly resemble shelob's lair, and far too many nights i find myself drawn to those chambers where i close off the world and cuddle my preciousssss sins. i'm not working around w/ voodoo dolls of dick cheney, if that's what you're thinking (not that that would be a great surprise, considering the veep's behavior of late). you see, i've had some sins longer than i've had almost anything in my life except my parents. those are they whose talons are so deep into me that i can't imagine what my life would be like were i to ever get free of them. in an odd way, i wouldn't even be me if i didn't have them. and "my friend" is sitting w/ me once a week, talking and listening, letting me find them for myself sometimes, and other times turning his trusty spotlight on them hidden behind my back "like india and a number of other countries" (another obscure reference that perhaps only leonidas coleman could get). what i mean is: these are mine, by god, and i aim to keep them!

and therein lies the rub. that which i aim to keep, jesus died to take away, and his death is stronger than my twisted desires. so, in fits and starts, and sometimes quite painfully, i'm being healed, thanks to the skill of a friend, the love of other friends, the prayers of people i may not even know, the indefatigable love of a godly woman and the innocent hope in my daughter's eyes. i still say w/ paul that i am the least of the saints, the most sinful of men, but oh how the hunger for sanctification is growing! if and when i get there, i'll drop you a line.

memento homo quia pulvis es et in pulverem reverteris. (for that reminder, i thank you, tom howard)