Just a little update. I've received very nice
emails and comments about my recent little heart glitch, and I truly appreciate
it. In fact, I'm at the place where I feel a little guilty about it. You write
something that is true about yourself, but if your blog is (for whatever reason)
one of those blogs that a lot of people read, suddenly there is this gush of
kind and sincere concern. At some point you begin to feel like you're drawing
attention to yourself, which of course you are.
Or I am. I used the vague, American-style "you
as indefinite pronoun" above because when I do that it feels like I'm
once-removed from what I write. I like using the word you in that way. Hemingway
did it, so I'm not going to apologize. I want to write like a man ripping chunks
of meat off the bone. Not like a dandy fellow, all prim and proper, dabbing his
lips with a napkin and keeping his pinky extended from his knife. "One cannot
be too careful..." - you know all that kind of stuff.
You want to write with a touch of brute
strength. Just a touch, and then be gentle as a lamb.
But back to my main point. Whatever pronoun I
choose, this blog is a personal thing. Blogs are intended to be that. They are,
we might say, a record of a person's life. An old way of thinking might lead you
to say, "What makes you think anyone wants to read your personal diary, you
self-absorbed fool?" A new way of thinking suggests that we are all adding to
the collective information network of the blogosphere. Whether or not anyone
reads your work isn't the most important question. It's the larger idea that's
important. We are reading each other's lives. We are learning about each other
and beginning to know each other across previously insurmountable geographical
and cultural barriers. I like being part of that.
I think of Real Live Preacher as my gift to the
movement. And it pays off personally too. I imagine my grandchildren could pick
through these essays and know something about me, even if I were to die too
young to know them. So I'm constantly weighing my desire for honesty and
openness against the privacy of my family and church. And I weigh the
uncomfortable sense that I'm writing too much about myself against the reality of this
new medium of expression. Sometimes saying "You" instead of "I" helps me with
that.
So enough about me; let's talk some more about
me. ;-)
My cardio stress test went well. I am,
apparently, strong as a horse. Good strong heart. Nothing physically wrong with
me that is causing a persistent arrhythmia in my heart. Jeanene and I talked
with our doctor at length about what it means to carry around too much stress.
Let's say that stress = anxiety. In that case,
are you walking around worried and anxious, never finished with your work,
always with a pressing project hanging over you? That's me. I'm never done
because the things I do for a living are things that will never be finished.
And there is also this little messy problem of
being a minister. Other people's lives are, to a certain and hopefully proper
extent, my concern. I don't want to carry that burden in an awkward, clumsy
fashion and with grandiose ideas. Grandiosity is foolish, whether you think you
can conquer the whole world or care for it. I struggle mightily with this
because I am in a helping profession. This struggle goes with the territory.
I see myself making adjustments to my
sleep, my caffeine, and my exercise. Well, the exercise that looms large in my
very near future. I quit one job and now only have two. What does this doctor
want from me anyway? Having two jobs seems reasonable, given the freedom my jobs
provide. My goal is always to be growing more healthy with both of my callings.
So thanks. I feel good to have gotten good
news. I have a good life, and I'm thankful for it. I hope I'll be a good steward
of it.
rlp
