I’ve been mulling over things constantly. I have started over ten blog posts. I have not finished any of them. So I just sat down for a while and wrote. Forgive me for the jumble. Thank you for reading.

I’m reading Daniel this week. As I reflect on it, something disturbing strikes me.

I am Nebuchadnezzar. I pretend I am the God of my kingdom. When Nebuchadnezzar rages that no one can interpret his dream, he orders that all the wise men be executed (Daniel 2:12). When I forget my wallet in my car at Target and can’t reclaim my place in line, after the woman who was after me (who took forever because she had five kids paying for things independently in cash, and then the guy didn’t tell me to get in line until two other people had taken their place…), I leave in a huff. I tell myself it’s because it’s nap time and my children are unraveling, but the truth is, I need the stuff I just told the checker to take care of himself, and I have to go to Walmart next door to pick it all out again. (I’m super embarrassed about this and I knew even as I was doing it that I was acting terribly. I should go find that Target guy and apologize…I know.)

I am unreasonable and wholly selfish, just like that old fool king.

You know, we probably live in a lap of luxury King Nebuchadnezzar couldn’t imagine. The food we have access to is more diverse and plentiful than any kingdom in the history of the world. Our clothes are softer and more comfortable. Cold water in the heat of summer? Not to mention air conditioning and climate controlled cars…Cars and even planes. The world is the American’s oyster. We can go almost anywhere in the world. We are masters of land, sea and sky.

We are gods. We are tyrants who pollute every river, over-fish every sea, and create islands of refuse, mostly without even considering it. We decide that America is sovereign, and this wealth and power belongs only to us who were born here and our children (Like we chose to be born here, we orchestrated our birthplace….). There is no such thing as racism in America because I’ve never been racist…

I am not the god of my life. I refuse to be the God of my life. I don’t even know how to put God in his place. I can’t even imagine the place God deserves to be in my life. My sense of spiritual reality is so misplaced, as soon as I walk away from this keyboard, I am going to lash out at my daughter for being too loud because I forget that quickly what God wants for me. God wants for me to follow his agenda. I don’t know what that agenda is. I don’t know the good work He has for me, honestly.

I have trouble praying for more than about three minutes. I pray while I’m doing the dishes, while I’m showering. But when I kneel at my couch or on the floor of my bedroom, I immediately get drowsy. After I’ve started running out of things to say, I start to think of all of the things I “should be doing.” God doesn’t really get to the opportunity to speak to me. And I wonder if He ever will. I wonder if I should expect Him to say anything. And if He does ever, will I recognize it?

I am the god of my life. Oh my God, help me. My father, show me. Humble me. Be with me.

Fried Mashed Potatoes

Ingredients
Leftover Mashed Potatoes (About 10 red potatoes, boiled, drained and mashed with 2-3 cloves of garlic, butter, and milk)
Bacon Grease

Method

Make the Mashed potatoes into patties and fry them in bacon grease over medium heat until crispy and warmed through.