I’ve being dying to write today.
So, yesterday, after thinking about the people who love me, and posting a spectacular blog – I found out that the trunk line out of Kenya had been cut under the sea somewhere, and all the information being sent out of Kenya was being eaten by a sea monster.
I hadn’t saved.
Ever written a post and then lost it?
That exciting moment when you ‘published’ – gone forever?
Anyway, it made me remember that I’m writing for myself and that I’d just have to construct another one as long as I was honest in the moment.
This morning I woke up feeling down, had to take my mum to the lawyers to prepare for a suit filed against us for some tenants we are evicting.
Now my mum’s cool – but she forgets things, and she’s not like she was and it scares me to talk to her now because she isn’t the person I knew.
She has an excellent sense of humour – in an ‘eccentric old lady’ kinda way. My mum’s never been an old lady.
Does it get worse? Do I let go of the mother I knew and get used to the mother I have now? I love her so much but really, damn, the tyranny of age.
So I was thinking about thanking the tech around me today.
I thought about ‘the dark ages’ – anytime before 1980 – and was thankful for my phones.
I love my mobile phones.
I was thankful for satellite TV, and for internet and for cars and for toilets.
I thought about what it might be like to be alive two hundred years from now…how exciting human beings are at the moment, utterly transforming our experience of life, our understanding of the Universe and what we can do in it.
I thought about meeting aliens in a thousand years time, becoming for them, Gods.
I thought about Isaiah and the space-ships he described.
I thought about Revelations and saw inter-planetary battles.
I thought about the totality of life and wondered if Jesus is the same for all of Life in the Universe, or if he’s just Jesus, for us.
I went to work and put the finishing touches to an edit I’ve been working on for five months.
The computer broke.
I had not saved.
Half the project is gone.
I went running with the Hashers – 10kms – pounding pavement furiously. The route took us through some slums. Slums to me – but very obviously, living space for others, with schools, lively children, community.
Still…that existence looked deplorable, and the children running alongside me, happy as they were, did not have shoes.
And my mind went to Syria. How does a nation do that to itself? How does a leader – it’s one person – a person responsible for others – bomb his own people and say it’s for the best?
I thought about myself, cursing God because I have a stitch – can’t even let me enjoy my run – cause my work has been erased – you promised, damn you –cause my car’s a little Hyundai that’s on its last legs, cause my boyfriend has no empathy in him – cause I’m sick and tired.
I’m at my boyfriends now, and he looks beautiful.
The curry he’s cooked is good.
My car got me here.
My breath is measured, I finished the run, my body feels alive.
I will go into tomorrow and reconstruct what was lost.
Tonight, I will ask Jesus if he will still love us when we’re 75% machine.
I will tell him I want to see the future in its entire technological splendor, as I lay him down to sleep, in my dreams, in the desert, under a sky that today, holds the Muslim symbol of the new moon and the night star.
I will apologize for complaining, and promise to be better tomorrow.
I will remember that he is going to die for me.
And I will ask him why.
“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” John 16:33