Sometimes I Don’t Care

Sometimes
I don’t care

and I don’t care
that I don’t care.

I’m tired of feeling guilty
for my lack of compassion
for eating too much
for not trying to be more Christlike
and
I don’t want to figure out
what makes me not care
that I don’t care.

I carry not caring around with me
as if it were an empty clay pot
shifting it from hip to hip
without relief.
Sometimes
I want to climb into it
and stay there.

There’s a message on my answering machine.
A friend who’s disabled wants a ride home from Bible Study.
The person who usually drives won’t be there.
It means I have to bring my car when
I wanted to walk.
It takes a while before I come to my senses.
I phone him back. Sure I can do that.
I drive others home too.
It feels good to be kind.

But not good enough to relieve me of my burden.

If I could put down this pot
believe me, I would.
It’s as awkward as hell
shifting the weight
resisting temptation
waiting for the gift
–if there is one–
to be revealed.

I’m just me, with my own journey, with my own unique pain, my own experience of rejection, my own needs. Can I just claim them and trust that if I am faithful to my own unique story, I will meet God right there, right in my pain.—Henri Nouwen, Interview with Brian Stiller

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Love Mischief for the World

Here’s a new film on Father Greg Boyle, SJ of Homeboy Industries and their work helping former gang members on the road to recovery and wholeness. Father G’s book Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion tells his story. I can’t tell you how often I quote it.

What l ove mischief are you and God doing to care for the world?
Let me know and I will include it in an upcoming post.