I’ve given much thought to my gasoline bill over the last week. It’s come to a place where I feel I need to “put up or shut up,” as I’ve heard it said through the years.
I refuse to sit at a desk and grouse about the high price of gas on my commute. I’ve decided to move.
I’ve known for awhile that I would be moving and that it was just a matter of when I’d do it. There comes a time when one has to make change, rather than just wait and wait for external circumstances to be different.
It’s easy to get caught in a mode of blaming the government, or blaming the president, or blaming the boss, or blaming the economy for my quality of life (or lack thereof).
“We live by faith, not by sight.” — 2 Corinthians 5:7
Albert Barnes, the 19th century pastor and theologian whose notes still speak, wrote, “We believe in the existence of objects which are invisible, and we are influenced by them. To walk by faith, is to live in the confident expectation of things that are to come; in the belief of the existence of unseen realities; and (allowing) them to influence us as if they were seen.
“The people of this world are influenced by the things that are seen. They live for wealth, honor, splendor, praise, for the objects which this world can furnish…. (they live) as if there were nothing which is unseen… as if they ought not to be influenced by the things which are unseen. The Christian, on the contrary, has a firm conviction of the reality of the glories of heaven; of the fact that the Redeemer is there; of the fact that there is a crown of glory; and he lives, and acts as if that were all real, and as if he saw it all.”
Once again I write this column from Puerto Rico — this time from the airport where I’m waiting for my flight to Hartford, Conn. later this afternoon. I should be home by the time you read this.
This past Saturday was St. Patrick’s Day. You might be interested in knowing that there are a good number of Irish pubs in Puerto Rico and there is an Erin Go Braugh sailboat docked in the marina here that does charters!
Soon they will be painting a shamrock down the street in our little coastal town of Luquillo (lou-key-joe); they will be having a corned beef and cabbage picnic for all downtown, too.
This week, we met a man named Dr. Rick who worked with Jane Goodall, the ape lady, and also with SU on the clean-up of Onondaga Lake. My friends met him at breakfast while I was at church. He lives in PR and has a small eco-farm; what he doesn’t use, he donates to food pantries.
I’m dealing with a lot of uncertainty this week. Or not dealing with it, as the case may be.
I’m following several leads for additional employment, none of which is going fast enough to get me ahead in the cash flow game. I turn my attention frantically from one career path to another, trying not to let any correspondence go unanswered nor any opportunities slip by.
It feels like roller skating against the flow of a crowd of teens on a Friday night.
I had that experience, years ago, at the Bilou skating rink. We used to go skating there on the weekends. A rush of air braced us when we stepped inside, a little whirlwind caused by the counter-clockwise whoosh of skaters all straining in the same direction.