In which we discuss my day, and my temperance

I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why I don't drink more.
Tim and I have limited any alcohol consumption to the weekends (as defined by his work schedule). It seems that weeknights are when the medicinal properties would do the most good, though. Perhaps we should rethink this arrangement.

I'm in a quiet room, with Christmas lights and peaceful music. The various young people are in their respective rooms. I kind of think this will be what Heaven is like. You don't think that we will be surrounded by people and angels and commotion in Heaven, do you? That is exactly the sort of thing that brings on my longings for adult beverages. I wonder if those will be in Heaven? Only without the sin part, I suppose.

My grandfather and I had a long conversation at his hearth this afternoon. The fire was cheerily flickering away as we discussed a variety of topics including the state of health care in America, death, the dangers of expeditions to the North Pole, my Granny, parole board hearings, and the similarities between bureaucrats and icebergs.
We didn't solve a single one of the world's problems, but the problems seemed a great deal less threatening in his company. Grandpa is steady and gentle, wise and strong. His life experience lends him perspective that no one under 90 could possibly know. It's very powerful.

The hours I spent with Grandpa this afternoon were a much needed reprieve from the hullabaloo of the past few days. Weeks? We've been caroming through December with all the balance of a sailor on shore-leave. Allura moved in, Faline moved back home, three of my kids celebrated birthdays, my husband had his birthday too, we've had out-of-town house guests, and a 20-year-bible-study reunion. And we are only three weeks into December. I've gained weight, lost my temper, grown weary, and shrunk our bank account. But, the tree is beautiful, the shopping is done, the kids are safe and the year is drawing to a close.

If I need a drink, it's because I covet the specialness of the exhale that is the first glass of wine. Yet, here I am. Norah Jones is singing softly, and I am blogging. It's maybe better than a chardonnay.

Lent it begin

I perused the past two blog posts before I endeavored to write. This alerted me to the concerning fact that alcoholic beverages figured largely in the last two posts. Fortunately for my liver, Lent begins tomorrow. I am not Catholic, but I am very much in favor of Jesus. My Protestant understanding of Lent has allowed me to participate in the ritual of fasting this time every year for the purpose of somberly anticipating Resurrection Sunday. I am dazzled to think of the difficulty Jesus encountered to set aside His Divinity to don such humble humanity for one such as I. Silly, I guess, to find how easy it is to promote discomfort within myself by the elimination of one luxury or another.

This year, I shall deny myself alcohol. I'm rather too fond of it, truth be told. I've forsaken bread, in years past, or meat (that sucked. Although my daughter became a vegetarian after that bright idea.) My son gave up cereal one year. My daughter gave up soda. Half the fun of it is weighing out the various possibilities. It's kind of sad when you realize how the absence of one thing will set you so off kilter. That's kind of the point, though. We always give up alcohol. It's a good way to analyze how much a stronghold it's rooted into our lives. My "our", I really mean "mine". I was hoping to minimize by circling my arms wide.

I love having a drink at the end of the day.
"What a day! I need a drink!"
"Let's meet for a drink!"
"The kids are driving me nuts, I need a glass of wine."
"A celebration! Let's open a nice bottle."
"It's 5 o'clock somewhere...."
..."or noon, anyway."

Everyone I know drinks, with the possible exception of those on Probation. How is it that the former convicts are more temperate than the Christians I know?
Right?

Do not judge me.

I'm making a point here. Sometimes, I'm not even super clear on my point until I begin blogging. I think the point is that alcohol is a dangerous thing. A coping mechanism teetering on the brink of Idolatry. It's not a twelve step thing, not today. It is, perhaps, a foothold. Some evaluation is in order. Some time away.

It's the only thing I'm giving up this year. No carbs, no sugar, no coffee. Just alcohol.
I'm giving up the worst part of who I am to contemplate the fact that Jesus set apart the best part of Himself to redeem the worst parts of me. How appropriate.