Feasting and Forgetting

Thanksgiving always reminds me, as it is designed to, that I am one incredibly blessed person.  I have a wonderful family and amazing friends and the most ideal boyfriend I could have dreamed up for myself-- my privileged, well-fed American self.

Now, just a few days past Thanksgiving with all of its bounty and grateful reflection and people I love, I feel so...blah. Dispassionate.  Not sad exactly, but like there is nothing much to be happy about.  This, I know, is a lie.

It's funny how we human beings can be so prone to short-sightedness.  How frequently we need reminding of all the good things in life, our history of being blessed and of bad things turning around for the good.  No matter how great and glorious and consistent our past triumphs, it seems one small setback can so cloud our vision we can't see any blue sky.

Or, like the crowds that were following Jesus in John 6, sometimes we're just blind.

Here we have the familiar story of Jesus miraculously feeding the hungry multitudes that had been following him.  With just His blessing, a few loaves and fishes became a feast so abundant that the disciples collected twelve baskets of leftovers.  I can't help but be reminded of our fridge groaning under the weight of all the Thanksgiving leftovers we crammed into it a few days ago.

In John 6, after the crowds had feasted and witnessed Christ's outrageous provision, they are naturally pretty impressed:

¹⁴ After the people saw the sign Jesus performed, they began to say, “Surely this is the Prophet who is to come into the world.” ¹⁵ Jesus, knowing that they intended to come and make him king by force, withdrew again to a mountain by himself.

Here's where it gets crazy.  Just a few measly verses later, this is what that very same crowd asks Jesus:

³⁰ So they asked him, “What sign then will you give that we may see it and believe you? What will you do? ³¹ Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written: ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’^[c]”

Are they really this stupid?.  John 6 mentions that this conversation takes place one day after the miraculous feast.  There is much to be gleaned from the handful of verses that contain the entire dialogue.  In fact, the conversation Jesus has with this crowd marks a dramatic turning point in His ministry.  What strikes me most about it now, however, is just how blindingly forgetful we followers of Jesus can be.  Lord help us in our spiritual dementia.

The sun doesn't disappear when it rains.  Yet it still seems our nature to feel orphaned in a storm.  Just a little drizzle on my parade is all it takes to shake my faith sometimes.

Two days into my new job with the Red Cross, they fired me (although I am eligible for rehire they tell me).  It appears there was a failure to communicate about my Christmas travel plans, and upon clarification I was promptly told to grab my things and leave.  It was a stunning development, but also an answer to prayer.  I didn't want this job if it would detract from the bigger plan of resuming my dental hygiene career. I prayed that if this job wasn't right, then the door would shut.  They couldn't have slammed it much harder than that!

My quest for a dental hygiene job has been disappointing, but not fruitless.  I was hired for an on-call position, they just haven't "on-called" me yet.  I have some dental hygiene temp work lined up for next week which will pay my bills (thank GOD!), so I already know I am going to be Okay.

It just doesn't feel that way.

But then, I'm not feeling much of anything right now.  In my mind I know life is good and God is great.  My heart, however, seems to be on lithium--it's beating, but not with much enthusiasm.

So I'm praying for some anti-lithium, or anything to reignite some passion.  Maybe I just need to watch Annie again to be reminded that the sun'll come out...tomorrow.  Or Gone With the Wind..."tomorrow is another day."  I could use a dose of Annie meets Scarlet O'Hara tenacity and hopefulness.

Maybe that's where I'll start--with Netflix :0)