For The Kid In The Attic

Monday afternoon, Jennifer, my oldest daughter came out of the courtroom hysterical with fright.

A weeping, deflated, trembling, frightened shell

Apparently the judge did not believe her testimony.

Apparently the judge did not believe the testimony of her sister.

Apparently the judge did not believe my testimony in the matter either.

One person in the courtroom referred to my blog and told the judge that I lied in my postings. Computer terminals surrounded the bench but I have no way of knowing whether or not the judge actually read any of my blog or whether she just accepted the other person’s word about my lying.

The incident makes me feel like Cassandra.

So be it.

I can live with that.

Perhaps the other folks feel vindicated and now peace will reign.

On the brighter side, as Eve talked with some cops outside the courtroom, they gave her a length of official crime scene barrier tape for a display in the mystery section of her library. This elated her because she plans a mystery event around Halloween and this tape will set it off special.

Ginny and I took Jennifer out for supper and ice cream. She calmed down considerably. I think that ice cream is the Christian answer to all of life’s overwhelming problems.

We advised her to relocate out of state. (I hear Montana is nice this time of the year). But meanwhile, the whole family is pitching in to help her find an apartment, buy furniture, and get reestablished on her own. We’re fronting her for a temporary apartment but she’ll be camping in there sleeping on an air mattress on the floor till we come up with a bed.

With “The Recent Unpleasantness” now past (Southerners will recognize the reference), she can reorient her life and pursue her own dreams.

Once she’s recuperated from her trauma and can decide what those dreams are, she has a chance to start anew.

Yesterday two people contacted me asking why I have not posted a journal entry on my blog in the past couple of days

Ever since I began keeping a daily journal about 25 years ago I’ve tried to record things that are important to me or things that strike my fancy, jokes I hear, news that catches my attention, trains of thought — or whatever.

Normally I wake up about 4 in the morning and write my journal as a springboard into my regularly writing. It’s a warm up exercise for working on my books.

Occasionally, I write up the happenings of my day in the afternoons while they are fresh in my memory, then I post the entries to the internet the next morning.... (Of course today my server was down till almost 2 in the afternoon!)

When things happen which are too bland or too painful for me, I don’t post a journal entry at all.

Essentially I haven’t posted recently because I’m bone weary, bland, discouraged and disheartened. Last week something came up — unrelated to anybody else — which makes me realize what a total failure I am in every area of life.

So I’ve felt too ashamed to write about it.

As far as I know I have no secrets; but I do regard certain things as private and do not record them in a journal entry accessible to the public during my lifetime.

Mystics call what I am going through by the fancy term “The Dark Night Of The Soul”. Ginny calls it “Adjusting to the normal aging process”. Personally, I call it “floundering chin-deep in mushy liquid shit”. (But then I have always been a giddy optimist in my worldview).

Whatever you call it, its hardly any fun at all.

But, it is survivable.

Sometimes, survivable is the best you can expect in this life.

And yes, I do know about Victory in Jesus, the Abundant Life, the Joy of The Lord, and all those other religious buzz words. If other people feel all that, good for them. Such things, at the moment, are beyond my reach and experience.

Yet, as Job said, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him”.

For Job, that’s faith.

For me, it’s pigheadedness.

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, at precisely 7:48 this morning a baby was born who officially makes the population of our country to now number 300 million people.

You know, I’ve always written with a specific reader in mind. The reader I envision is a teen-aged boy who lives 50 to 75 years from now, and who stumbles across my journals in a dusty attic on a rainy day and begins to read these old musty papers.

Some stupid joke catches the kid’s attention and he begins to read further. As he reads, he catches some glimpse of what it means for me to be a Christian. He sees a relatively unvarnished picture of one Christian guy’s life, a life soaked in problems, temptations, discouragements, failures, and defeats — yet resounds with hope.

I dream that the kid in the attic will look at all the crap in what’s-iz-name’s diary and that this kid will see through it all and see that what I write about is real. I dream that he will see through me to the beauty of the living Christ and commit his life to Christ 100%, without reservation.

Hey, Kid! Here’s a bumper sticker joke for you:

I Did Not Escape From The Insane Asylum — I’ve Got A Day Pass!