The irony of blogging is that the most interesting content is the stuff that rises out of the flames of adversity. The irony being that when life is hardest, I (and most folks, I think) want to blog the least.

In my case it has more to do with not wanting to "cry" in public than to do with my life being too busy or too complicated to sit down and write. And to say I'm embarrassed to cry in public is kind of wrong, too. I'm more afraid of detailing the difficulties and the doubt I have because of the difficulties. To do so would be to (in my mind) contradict the clear-headed confidence I've detailed in other posts and in talking to people.

But this is life, no?

[Edited out a mediocre first pass. Trying again later.]

[Second pass]

I've realized since I posted this at first, then went and excised a chunk, then let some time pass, that my posts need to be longer, more deliberate, more explicit, and less summary.

In my last blog I spent a lot of time philosophising, moralizing, pontificating and just plain bitching, and I notice that I border on that here. The problem is that to take the time to write thoughtful, honest posts (of the nature that would be really productive) requires more work and emotional risk than I'm immediately willing to give.

I've also remembered how effective a teaching tool simple exposition can be. Sometimes I fall prey to exactly what I dislike in others, the tendency to learn from my own life and immediately issue imperatives to others about theirs. I'm learning what I'm learning because I am who I am. If I tell you what I'm learning and why and you find application for yourself in it, isn't the learning more organic and dynamic that way?

So what am I learning? Where am I at?

I am at broke. Beyond broke, in fact. I'm very tired because of it. I'm tired of the stress and the wondering and the collections calls, as polite as the poor people on the other end of the line manage to be. I haven't even had that many calls and I'm tired of it. I'm weary of the confusion that comes from feeling and seeing God lead me to this place, and then apparently let us free fall. Does the free fall indicate that this path is ended and another is supposed to begin? Or is it indicative of God's method of teaching patience and discipline?

I'm still a licensed trucker, I could go back...even if, at this point, going back would mean needing to call up a relative or good friend for bus fare to Tulsa. It could very well be that God sent me on this adventure in order to teach me to let go of my own schedule and rely on His. I certainly am at that place where I've laid aside my desires. I don't care what it is that God wants me to do, I just want to know that He wants me to do it.

And there's a new, strange freedom in that. Not being so hellbent on any one thing that I refuse to give it up in spite of clear direction elsewhere...

But I have no clear direction elsewhere.

It could be that, in fact, God is saving a flush of success for just the right moment, so that in this dark hour, when there is no hope, He can rightly take credit for providing.

These things I do not know.

So what do I learn from this?

The best I can do is take the opportunities available to me to relieve my [our] current distress. They are few. In the meantime, I can research my options...and weigh the benefits of one against the other.

In the end, I could chose to follow one path over the other, because it seems to be the right thing...and God could again do what he has done so many times already...He could close that door right in my face.

I am not in control of my life. This is not surrender, apathy, fatalism, or laziness. It is simply true. I can lay plans and put out feelers and all the rest, but if God does not will it, it won't be.

So why am I so scared of making the wrong choice?