Abundance, as God defines it, is available in each individual life. That's a good thought for Holy Week. Guess a small part of my pursuing abundance would be ramping up the blog output a bit this week. Not like I lack for material after all. For those who dine on the absurd... well, the table groans beneath the weight of the feast.
News accidentally reaches me that Sandra Bullock's husband has announced he's seeking mental help over some (apparently) well publicized personal indiscretion. Well I think psychiatry is often elevated beyond its proper place in our culture, becoming at times a quasi-religion excuse generator. But in this here case, the guy's got a point. If you've been running around on Sandra Bullock yeah, you probably should get your brain looked at real quick. If there were such a thing as a psychiatric ER, they'd be calling Code Blue on you! Hey, now there's a thought? They have defribulators for when hearts stop, so how about a brain defribulator? Just stick those paddles to the ears, yell "CLEAR!" and jump start that brain! I could invent that!
Group therapy sessions aren't going to go well for Sandra Bullock's husband though. I mean, you're sitting around with others and you're all 'sharing' and I foresee problems...
"Yeah, you don't know the pressure, having a wife so talented, rich and beautiful."
"Excuse me, but could you fast forward to the part that makes me feel sympathetic?"
Not gonna be good for group morale either. I envision people out in the exercise yard--- er, I mean 'contemplation garden' and they're smoking cigarettes right down to the filters, and the conversation will be...
"Hey, you guys know me! Strippers, gambling, I used to be the craziest guy in here, then along comes Mr. 'I cheated on Sandra Bullock' and it ain't fair!"
Also this week, lots of personal drama went on all over this country, far from the interest of celebrity crazed media. Letters from elite Universities started hitting mailboxes. Yeah, some major happy dances in some envelopes, but the acceptance rate for those schools is single digit. Ninety percent of the applying HS Seniors got rejection letters. Half of them got multiple 'No thanks' letters, and now they'll have to ratchet down their dreams to State University.
I know I know, you want me to fast forward to where you're supposed to feel sympathetic... for most if not all the rejecteds, that letter's the first time the adult world has slapped them down. They've worked so hard, for what to them is all their lives, to be strait A students, valedictorian, all the AP classes, to be special. Now there it is in their cookie hooks, Vanderbilt etc. letterhead in very polite language saying essentially, "Naw, you ain't that special."
Got to be a crushing moment. My advice to those kids would be save those rejection letters. Be mindful that abundance, as God defines it, is available in each individual life. Go on about your business, and the day will come those rejection letters will make you smile.