Funkadelic smells

My apartment has been smelling funkadelic for the past few days. Last night I thought I eradicated the guilty party when I washed the stockpile of dirty dishes in the sink (by hand, mind you... no dishwasher in this abode) but now the smell seems to be following me around. I sure hope that doesn't mean that it's... me. (Quick armpit sniff.) I seem to smell pretty fresh. Do you think it's possible for smells to really get stuck in your nose?

At this very moment in fact is the lunar eclipse. Me and my roommie and our next door neighbor were sitting outside for a few minutes. It's a beautifully clear night here in the mountains and the moon was half-bathed in orange-brown shadows. I desperately wanted a telescope. And a winter coat. Being a Florida transplant hasn't been bad so far, but winter coats are expensive, especially if you try to buy one during winter, so I'm trying to stick it out until the spring clearance sales. But my puny tropical clothing collection is not faring well. I noticed yesterday that one of my (few) sweaters is becoming officially threadbare. Anyways, I left the other two outside a moment ago with their poptarts and milk and ran back inside to snuggle under my covers here and blog about.

Have you ever noticed how we spend most of our lives avoiding pain? The interesting thing is that God does not mind pain. Excruciating pain is in the center of his most beautiful, redemptive work. (This thought credited to my dad.)

I talked with Mary this week about a certain pain-- wound, if you will-- that automatically forces me into emotional shutdown. It's eerie how easy it has become to close myself off from it. The challenge is to feel my way through it the next time I face it. I told Mary that I didn't have any particular reason to want to do that, because I felt like it is just feeling pain for pain's sake. But then she pointed out that God says otherwise. He says after the pain and mourning comes joy. The key is not shutting down, though, and instead feeling my way completely through it.

I thought this was an interesting topic since the verse the Lord had given me that day was from Psalm 126:

Those who sow in tears
will reap with songs of joy.

He who goes out weeping,
carrying seed to sow,
will return with songs of joy,
carrying sheaves with him.