Sometimes it's like someone took a knife,
baby, edgy and dull and cut a six-inch
valley through the middle of my soul
At night I wake up with the sheets soaking
wet and a freight train running through
the middle of my head
Only you can cool my desire
I'm on fire
I'm on fire
I'm on fire
"I'm On Fire"
- Bruce Springsteen
I had trouble sleeping last night. So many things left in this life I was hoping to accomplish. With only a few hours left until the extraction, I’m experiencing an overwhelming desire to reach out to my fellow man. Expand my normally inhibited sociological and theological boundaries – shake the hand of my neighbor; embrace the stranger on the street; French kiss a nun.
It’s at moments like this when people, facing the end of their path down life’s broad highway, often seek religion as a comfort. Waiting until the very last minute to find God, though, seems selfish, trite, offensive. That’s why I sought His guidance early last week. Although still new, my relationship with my Creator feels solid. We’ve had several discussions, and I feel fairly comfortable with His plans for my eternity. Unfortunately, as far as the short-term misery of today’s operation, my God can offer no immediate help. Something to do with playing favorites, free will, a few concepts that I couldn’t quite grasp.
