Jeff and Jonah

I have found over the years of my perusal of the scriptures that I identify most often with some of the Old Testament prophets. Jeremiah was kind of whiny and depressive and I often wondered how his scribe, Baruch, got through a work day or what he said to his wife about Jeremiah when he got home.

Hands down though, I think I most identify with Jonah. He was constantly resisting what God laid before him and was even somewhat resentful of the outcome, even if it saved thousands of people from destruction. Jonah did not always get the bigger picture. Even though he was God's instrument (tool might be a better word) to preach repentance to foreigners and enemies of Israel, he could not see why God might offer them a second chance. Jonah was truly grieved when his preaching was successful and the people of Nineveh turned away from their sins and unbelief. God could have sent any prophet to do what He called Jonah to do, but He did not. God had stuff to teach Jonah while Jonah was teaching the Ninevites.

Of all Jonah's personal flaws, I think the one we share is resistance to doing what needs to be done. Jonah and I would rather run away than pursue God's will and when we finally do so, we both would tend to sit around and complain about it.

This is what I have been doing in my life. Running from the inevitable. Procrastinating. Hiding.

Lately I have been obsessed with my death and preparing for it. Mind you, I am not suicidal. I just came to the conclusion that I have done everything I was supposed to do and so I should prepare. To most of you normies out there, the morosity and morbid nature of such thoughts is foreign. Not to me. I tend toward the gloomy on a good day. It's probably why I enjoy the Addams Family. There is humor in the sullen and morose things of life. There is also practicality...but I digress. In keeping with my Addamsesque attitude, I gave one of my funeral songs to the pastor on Sunday and this week I visited the cemetery to see which kind of stone I should get for my grave? Do I want a flat one, level with the ground to avoid causing distress to the lawnmower man or do I want a raised one? Should it be black or red granite? So many choices and things to consider....a polished black stone level with the ground of course...right next to Dennis and Laurie, my parents. And yes, I already own the adjacent plots - two - like there was going to be someone else joining me in death...but again I digress.

About this time came the unbidden thought that I should really be talking to someone about this obsession with my doom. After one unsuccessful attempt, I got in touch with a pastor at my church and we talked. I think we decided first that my death was not immanent as I had been thinking. We also discussed the fact that head stone shopping should probably be among the last things on my death prep list. And really, if I'm getting cremated, why not sell the plots, forgo the headstone and let my heirs dismiss my ashes at a later date in a place of their choosing. I won't care. I will be dead.

Further to the point, perhaps I need to reorder my priorities. It's true that I will probably die sooner rather than later. I'm 62. How much time could possibly be left? It remains to be seen. What I need to do is focus on closing issues that are currently open in my life. I need to deal with the dissolution of my deceased parents property and close that chapter. I have literally been avoiding this for three years for reasons I cannot seem to wrap my mind around (until today) and for which I have actually been too proud to discuss with anyone or ask for input.

So, fast forward to this morning, I went over to my parents house to be sure the heat, such as it is, was working because the outside temps are dropping. Things seemed to be in order when I got inside. There was not frost on the counter tops and that's when it hit me and hard.

I have been running away from this task of selling off this property because I am in grief and I am also angry.

It finally hit me today that my parents are dead and they are not coming back, and that I am alone. The tears rolled. I may have made some wailing noises. Then there was anger. In life, they were always leaving me somewhere and sometimes, especially in my teen years, I would be left completely alone. In the past, they would always eventually come back...but this last time they left, it was the last time. I will not see them again this side of heaven.

And every freakin time I walk into that house....everything...everything reminds me of them and I see a mess I did not create that was never supposed to be my problem staring me in the face.

It's good they aren't coming back. There would be a fight....right after I hugged them and told them how much I love them and missed them.. but I digress.

As Jonah would probably tell me now, running away does not does not help. Neither does being unhappy with the outcome of situations over which you have no control. We just have to deal with them and move forward despite any pain we might be feeling about it. I guess maybe my death obsession has been about avoiding the reality of what needs to be done. Being an only child is tougher than you think. But I digress...

How was your week?