on creating tiny green ducks...

I was extremely exhausted last night. A stressful day at work on Friday, rushing straight home to take care of yard sale details (picking up tables, making and hanging signs) and then hanging out with Angelika that evening. Yard sale early Saturday morning after about 3 hours of sleep (we raised over $400 for Candy's trip... rock!), clean up, and then crashing at my parent's house while doing laundry (am I really 30?!). Today holds church, golf and the beginning of our new small group study (Celebration of Discipline... v.g.).

The hanging out part was actually an evening oasis... we colored in signs while listening to the Emmylou Harris live at the Ryman album, secured the signs around the neighborhood and then headed down to Cornerstone Pub for bluegrass and beer. While there, we planned Runaway Planet's European tour in our heads, as well as my new consulting career training Austrian government officials how to implement a "yard sale culture" in their country. Angelika is taking home labels from New Belgium's 1554 and Little Rock's own Diamond Bear Southern Blonde (they don't serve Shiner Bock at Cornerstone... something must be done about this... at least there is plenty at home in the fridge). I asked our waitress if the Cornerstone t-shirts said Arkansas anywhere on them ~ Gretchen's birthday is approaching. Our wonderful waitress, who worked the whole room alone and kept a smile on her face, found out that they did not list the city and state, but did bring a Cornerstone pen with the location info on it... congratulations, G-dawg, you're getting a pen!

So I'm exhausted last night, and I'm watching one of those high school comedies on cable about dating mayhem and hidden love and wanting to be cool and realizing that none of that matters (ok, so I watched intermittent sections of the movie in between 20 minute naps). Lack of sleep coupled with exposure to gratuitous displays of modern humanity bring out the philosopher in me, the "life is about sooo much more than this" in me, the "how sad is that children out there really do think that high school is this important, and how sad is it that their parents perpetuate this myth" in me.

This state of mind eventually spins out of control and leads me to contemplating things like my pajama pants. Of course, I'm not contemplating the fact that I own probably 10 different pairs of pajama pants ~ that, my friends, has nothing to do with being a disciple of consumer culture. Instead, I contemplate the creation of tiny green ducks. My pj pants are pink (of course), with a semi-random pattern of ducks all over it. One line has a large yellow duck followed by a row of tiny yellow and green ducks. Another line has the large yellow duck (headed the alternate direction) followed by a line of tiny yellow ducks and one tiny green duck at the end, with an additional tiny green duck trailing behind. Still another line has a large yellow duck and a large green duck, followed by a row of tiny green and yellow ducks. With perhaps a few missed exceptions, this is the pattern that exists all up and down my legs. And it hits me - someone designed this pattern. Someone sat at a computer and designed tiny green ducks for my pj pants, a pattern which was then duplicated and formed into a fabric which would be used to mass produce pj pants for consumerists like me to grab up for $9.99 a pair at Old Navy (mine were on sale, of course, so I think they were more like $2.99 ~ rock.) Someone studied Literature and Trigonometry and European History in high school, got into college, chose a graphic design major, stressed over tests, produced a senior project, landed an entry-level position, and worked their way up to produce tiny green ducks for my mass-produced pj pants. Or perhaps the tiny green ducks are just a random creation of a well-programmed computer somewhere. I have nothing against graphic design and I love most graphic designers I have met, I do not mean to single out their profession. However, they were the focus of this particular late night contemplation on how complicated and frivolous God's world has become (because it is not, after all, our world).

We were created to wander naked through a garden and eat anything we wanted (without the need of creative labeling or clever marketing), except for the fruit of one tree. But we ate that fruit, and I eat of it every day. Daily I create a list of "I want..." and "Wouldn't it be great to have..." and "If only I had..." and, of course, "ooh, I need...". I have an over abundance of possessions as is. And there is nothing that I need. God is enough, and He is everything. Yet last night, I bought the new Blue Bell Ice Cream "Delta Blues" flavor (blueberries... nuff said) ~ comfort food which will lead me to lamenting the current shape of my body which God designed to be naked and eat things that are not processed in a factory.

And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past... (Gatsby)