The sporadic ramblings of Emily C. A. Snyder - devoted to God, theatre, writing, and much randominity.

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Location: New York, New York, United States

Artistic Director and Co-Founder of TURN TO FLESH PRODUCTIONS. | Author of "Nachtstürm Castle," "Niamh and the Hermit." | Playwright: "Cupid and Psyche," "Math for Actors." | Classical director and educator.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

God Is Weird

Right, right. So I've been meaning - I mean, really, sincerely meaning - to get to the job of clearing out the cavern that is my suite at home (I mean home home, not school home). Howsomever, I am not a neat-freak, and while I know where everything I need is, and generally books are on bookshelves (along with papers and CD's and DVD's and knick-knacks, etc.), and most everything that I don't need are very neatly in unlabelled boxes, in point of fact, I have all these post-collegiate years of paper and extraneous bits piled up on me that...I never really want to go through. When I clean, I tend to get to straighten up the utilitarian bits, look at the other bits, and suddenly realize a) why I should never be allowed to be a housewife and b) why I am in desperate need of a household staff to manage my real and not creative life and c) that I'm sure I have something else far more creative and entertaining to do for several hours while I expurge the guilt from my system about not really deep cleaning...right?

So, apparently, this vacation, God got fed up with me shirking sorting, filing, and circular filing and so thought He'd bind my hands this way. First, after a splendid Sunday, I was woken up to Jules telling me that the cellar was flooding and I needed to check to see if it was in my main area as well. So I grumbled, got up, and poked about my room - finding only one place beneath my desk where water seemed to be seeping through. I dammed this up with paper towels...and found another crack in the floor, flooding with water...and another...and another...and quite a large one under my bed, mostly sopped up by my carpet...and another by the door...and so on and so on and so on. So we began moving everything out of my room and up to the living room, and all of a sudden... back went out. Just like that. Now, it's twinged before and gone out or threatened to before, but never as bad as this. Of course, God had foreseen this (probably planned it, the meaney), and so about ten minutes before my back gave out, I'd found my last ThermaCare heating pad and thrown it on my bookshelf - so it was right there when my back went. I got myself over towards the stairs, thinking that if I just calmed down I should be good in half an hour, when I realized that the pain had grown so much that I couldn't even get up the stairs. I tried walking, I tried climbing, Pete thought he could help drag me up, and eventually I found a way to go up using the strength just of the left side of my body (the pain's mostly on the right - stupid right side of the body), and got to the couch, collapsed onto it and was unable to stand and barely able to move my legs or rearrange my body for the rest of the day. Oh the joys.

Howsomever, and this is what this post is actually about, the consequence of this is rather Godly in His uberweird way. Everything that I'd meant to go through, is now literally in front of my nose and I have to go through it, and I have to have my family's help (I'm better at admitting when my body hurts, but I'm not so good at admitting my personal faults), and I have to have times of rest during this vacation rather than work work I normally do.

God is very, very weird.

But good.

And so, I'm trying to remember to offer it up for whatever in the world would possess Him to do such an awful, or at least inconvenient, thing to us for those who are suffering truly awful things, like the folks in Virginia and New Hampshire, and for those who are travelling, and for my aunt's mother's passing, and Suzanne's brother's illness, and for my kids - of course - and for my household sisters and FUS friends and whatever they may need now.

So, God, the mercies, please? The graces? And, if You wouldn't mind, a rather speedy recovery? Because I'd really like awfully not to be up and about via the use of a cane or a broomstick. C'est ca. Alleluia. He knows what He is about.

Mood: Mrrrrrwrm...curieux. Better to have this little time alone to rather Zen-like sweep the basement, but still in some mental, emotional and physical discomfort.
Music: Was just the first Buffy album. Dunno. May put it on again. Heavens knows I can finally get my CD's organized! (Or more organized. Or in the same area....)
Thought: I didn't realize how much I really cherish privacy until I've had 36 straight hours of none.


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