Today was a good day, although it started with the sky so melancholy that it quietly cried for a spell before the sun fully awoke and worked on cheering everyone up. I got up during its sadness and felt fall chill throughout the house and pet the kitties before I headed to church and helped set up. Between services I visited my folks and we shared Blake’s burritos and a few stories about their trip to Kansas for Arkalalah, where the little town’s parade was a full two hours long and had less Shriner cars in it this year, but more old tractors. We talked about how devoted a fan my mom is because she not only watched the Spurs players get their championship rings on TV the other night, but she photographed her favorites getting their rings on TV so she could send the photographs of the players (closeups, nonetheless, of players on TV) to her sister, who also loves the Spurs. My mom loves the Spurs so much, she willed our dad to love the Spurs too, so that he actually asks as much about when their game is, and even plans for it. When they left their home for church, I went to the store and then came home and enjoyed quiet and the cool light the sun was offering over the house for a bit (in a fetal position on the couch), and then I assembled a crockpot stew while the cats did nothing to help- they just lay there or wander up and say “Pet me”, and when I don’t, they flail me with a stern tail and then dismiss me back to my work. Well, once the food was cooking, I went back to church for tear-down, and once the kids stuff was all packed up and carted away onto trailers, I went to lunch with Zach.

Zach is young and smart and happy and smart and has a good heart, so we ate Dion’s and said “How are you”, and ended up talking about tiny homes and making furniture and how all things people do are really pretty creative and opportunities to reflect, and to reflect on, God and His creativity. Zach needed to go do his laundry, so I thought I’d go home, but the clouds were gray and very pouty by this time, so I went instead to the library by my house to try and sit and think for myself.

By the time I got there, the sky was crying again, and I felt bad for it, but I left my jacket in my truck and tried to just ignore the gray and block it out and think for myself. I’ve wanted to know how Warren Buffett approaches value investing, so I broke out a book I had with me and then Googled it to visit a few sites, but my attention span is about as long as a sparkler burns, so I absorbed nothing except a graphic with something about EPS and book value over 10 years, and some division happening there, and so I just stared, kinda frustrated that I couldn’t think. And then the library lady said the library would be closing in 20 minutes so I slowly packed up for five minutes and then at 15 minutes went to peruse rentable movies until about 5 minutes before time when another library lady came over and asked me if she could help me find something (“Get out.”), but I said I was fine. It was still sad outside when I had to go get in my vehicle, so I apologized to the sky for its grief and asked it to just have a good cry while I drove on home.

When I opened the house door though, the smell of stew hugged me and I was happy, even though the air was cold and the cats acted like I was an intruder. I asked them if it was okay if I watched TV, because I had thought so much during the afternoon, and they paused and stared blankly at me, which i took as a yes, so I quietly turned on the big mindwiper and queued up an episode of “The Newsroom” and felt exuberant at the beautiful opening song which i now was used to, feeling like I was sitting in the middle of a symphony, until the credits waned and the people started talking and walking around rapidly and things happened, and I got all gripped by it. I thought “The dialogue on this show is so sharp! How does Sorkin come up with all of these plot lines, and all of these complex conversations? How does he write these things that move so fast and have so many people talking to so intelligently to each other?” about fifteen times, and then the first one ended, so I thought I needed to watch a second, but I was hungry, so I got up and got some stew, and started the second episode of the evening and heard the theme song start and got all caught away- until the doorbell rang, and under my breath I said a bad word because I just wanted to be alone and quiet, and it turned out it was two kids selling magazine subscriptions. I don’t know what my brain was doing, but it was still crying out, and I heard myself ask them if they were hungry and would like some stew, and so I let them in, and Nigel and Michael tried to sell me a subscription while they powered down a bowl of stew and I talked to them asking them about their organization and what they were selling subscriptions for, while in the back of my mind I hoped they weren’t going to kill me or perhaps rob the house in a few days (although I don’t have much except two cats that just stare blankly and a bunch of theology books that would certainly compound the incrimination in their hearts if they stole them). They were happy for the stew and Nigel ate a second bowl, if he could (sure), and they continued to try and sell me a subscription, but I finally, after they were full, let them down quickly. No problem, they said- that hit the spot, thanks- well, you still have 40 minutes to sell one more subscription if you get back out there- yeah, ok, thank you- here, take some Rolos (what is wrong with me?)… be safe. And then I thought I should have offered to pray for them, and feeling bad, almost went out to chase them down, but then I didn’t and just said a quick prayer before I remembered the fast dialogue thing on TV and went and saw the cats in front of the fireplace laying, looking back at me, as if I had interrupted their drowsing. I asked them if I could resume, and they looked at me blankly then and then ignored me, so I took that as a good sign, ad then I got sucked through the second episode that had a pretty touching ending. One character referenced a poem that I looked up that made me feel a little like the sky (as the sky was still grieving), and I sat after the show and thought about it for a bit- and then I thought I needed to go write, so I came to Flying Star, where I sat for 20 minutes trying to be clever and to conjure sage wisdom. But then this came out.

Sometimes what you want isn’t what you get. You start on one thing, and something else comes along, and it is where you are supposed to end up, even though you were earnest about the first effort. And you have the choice to just be happy in it and to roll with it, or to get all worked up and be distraught about what should have been, but was never was.

In Albuquerque, we’re pretty lucky (although the earth would say otherwise)- the sky rarely weeps, and if it does it ‘s for a short time. Our skies are usually cheerful and resilient.

But sometimes, they, like the rest of us, need the comfort of a good cry, just to get it out.

Oh- the poem…

“To the Virgins, to make much of Time”
by Robert Herrick
(1591–1674)

GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he ‘s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he ‘s to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.