Author: blueZhift

After forever, I’ve finally upgraded my WordPress installation. So things are probably going to be broken for a while at least. Hopefully, the upgrade will allow me to post from Google Chrome which has been sharing time with Firefox on my computer. I’m writing this in Chrome right now, so if it posts properly then it’s a go!

Over the last few days, I’ve been battling freezing rain and snow, flat tires and busted windshield wipers. It’s not the way I would want to be spending my time. But ya know what? It’s not my time anyway. I was reminded of this fact one day when I was leafing through a copy of C.S. Lewis’, The Screwtape Letters. I read this in high school theology, but hadn’t picked it up since that time long ago. I happened across the following passage in chapter XXI.

You must therefore zealously guard in his mind the curious assumption “My time is my own”. Let him have the feeling that he starts each day as the lawful possessor of twenty-four hours. Let him feel as a grievous tax that portion of this property which he has to make over to his employers, and as a generous donation that further portion which he allows to religious duties. But what he must never be permitted to doubt is that the total from which these deductions have been made was, in some mysterious sense, his own personal birthright.

You have here a delicate task. The assumption which you want him to go on making is so absurd that, if once it is questioned, even we cannot find a shred of argument in its defence. The man can neither make, nor retain, one moment of time; it all comes to him by pure gift; he might as well regard the sun and moon his chattels.

I was so struck with the realization that my time is not my own that I took a serious pause. Then the further realization followed that I don’t really own anything at all. We are all just debtors in possession on this plane of existence. So with that in mind, I’ve been seeking out pure moments of joy and experience, being thankful for each one that comes along. So even something as mundane as carrying a flat mini spare to the gas station through the snow loses its sting and takes on a new value.

I don’t know if this makes me a better person or not, but I do feel that I’m valuing the gifts I get from God everyday more highly. The only thing that I can lay claim to are the decisions I make, how I decide to use the gifts I get.

I still have trouble using the term “Black Friday” to describe the day after Thanksgiving shopping frenzy. Prepending “black” to a day of the week is generally an ominous sign. Black means death in that context. The Black Plague, aka the Black Death, is usually the first thing that comes to mind. And with people being trampled to death, or shooting each other, as with the most recent Black Friday, I think I’ve had enough of this nonsense.

Yesterday, my family and I went out to shop mostly because that’s what everyone else was doing and we had not visited the mall in a couple of years due to the high cost of gasoline. I love getting out and observing people, especially how the demographics have changed over time. Of course I didn’t like having to drive around for half an hour looking for a parking space. But after hearing about the deaths, I’m just disgusted for having been a part of the madness at all. Next year I think we’ll just go to a park or take in a movie rather than be part of any mindless mob.