Yesterday was an up and down and up again kind of day. In retrospect, I probably should have tried to get more sleep. Much of the down part of the day was probably a result of tiredness from not getting to bed until 2 a.m. the night before.
We had to get up because my spouse had a dental appointment, the first with our insurance by way of COBRA now. He took the new information and headed to the dentist, and when he didn't return, I assumed everything was fine.
Sadly, no. I'm still not sure what exactly is wrong, but I'll spend some time on the phone this morning to try to get it sorted out.
I had been in a strange mood of self-castigation about losing my job. It's a strange mood, because I'm not exactly sure what happened, so it's really strange to hear my self-talk full of criticism of me. I'm good at recognizing it and dismissing it, but not so good at not letting my brain wander there.
While my spouse was at the dentist, I went to the Wesley Theological Seminary website, and I realized that the Fall schedule of classes was posted. I spent an hour both pleasant and scary, looking at what was available, going to various parts of the website to remind myself of what's required, second guessing myself about choosing to go this seminary route, and finishing with a bit of panic when I couldn't find the web page that gave details about the specialization in Theology and the Arts. Could the school have ended it? Round and round my brain went.
By afternoon, I told my brain that we had to get some progress made on the exegesis midterm for my New Testament class that was due at midnight. I settled in and herded my thoughts to school work. And then, my thoughts shifted as I made progress. I spent the afternoon looking deeply at 1 Corinthians 11: 17-34, reading back over course notes and textbooks, writing and revising. It was delightful.
In the middle of the afternoon, there was a knock on the door, which almost never happens, since we have a desk where visitors must check in downstairs. I opened the door to find two pre-teen girls. They weren't unfamiliar to me--when the game room downstairs first opened, one night we took turns playing pool, ping pong, foos ball, and Pacman. I see them around the building and the courtyard; they're usually on some sort of wheels, scooters, skates, and the like.
It took me a few minutes to figure out why they knocked on my door. At first I thought they were selling magazine subscriptions, but they didn't carry the paperwork pouch that those student salesforces usually do. Come to find out, they were taking orders for magazines they planned to make. They would return with my magazine and I would owe them anything from one dollar to three dollars.
What a deal! I requested a magazine that had to do with food or recipes. And last night, they returned:
I am so enchanted! The recipes don't really work, but of course, I don't need recipes.
I'd love to know what other residents ordered. Did they get delightful illustrations too?
I don't know what delighted me most: the entrepreneurial spirit, the handmade magazines, the can-do attitude, the enthusiasm? Yes to all of those.
It also took me back to my childhood, where I would create The Berkey Bulletin, make copies, and mail them to my relatives who had subscribed. I loved every part of the process.
By evening, my up and down mood of the day was up again. I turned in my midterm exegesis and went to bed, grateful for all the ways my day had turned out to be a good one.
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