So, dear readers, I could blame my recent lack of posting on midterms, and maybe that had something to do with it, but it wasn't the main reason. The main reason was that I've been decidedly blue. Life is hard sometimes, and sometimes I just don't have the emotional or spiritual resources to deal with it--much less deal with it and then come here and compose something vaguely readable.
Then God spent basically all day Friday and Saturday of last week--well, wooing me, essentially. There were flowers involved, and what amounted to Him playing me "our song." No chocolate, but then again He knows it's Lent, and good wooers take that sort of thing into account.
I basically felt like I was dead, or dying, for the first few weeks of Lent. And maybe I was. Maybe I died last week, went back to the dust from whence I came.
And then God rained down grace and something inside me woke up and reached for Him...and I think that maybe being small and hard is not a bad thing. Maybe it's just that I'm a seed, and before you know it the tiny homely thing that is my soul will turn into something alive and beautiful.
In short...I am okay with dying, because I don't plan on staying dead.
*Title is a paraphrase of a passage from The Robe by Lloyd Douglas