Friday, November 4, 2022

Evidence of the Fall Great and Small

I had not realized that it has been months since my last entry. Part of it is my engagement in a podcast, which I have done every week now, for nearly two and a half years. Part of it is the reality of life and the daily tasks that are necessary as well as those that distract. Finally, I think, the truth is that I find that there is so much difficulty and sadness and outright nuttiness in the world it seems that there just isn't much of cheerful note about which to write. 

I wish today were an exception. But it isn't. But today I feel I have to express it to the internet sphere. And to any whose eyes fall upon this entry.

It is reality that I am one generation behind many of my elder friends who are facing illness and inevitable death. As a person of faith (with all concomitant difficulty) I am familiar with the idea of Memento Mori, keeping the fact of our deaths before us, in our minds, not out of a morbidity, but because its inevitability ought to make us live good lives, God Centered lives. I hope I am living a good life, or mostly a good life for I am very much aware of the proximity of death, statistically and practically, and because I do believe Judgment follows. But knowing that if I live to their ages I will face what they are enduring now does give me pause. I pray that I will remain faithful as death comes closer. And sometimes it is a bit wearing to observe. Death, of course, is the most obvious evidence of the Fall, if one believes in God and the complicated relationship between we creatures and the Creator. And man's inhumanity to man is another large and obvious one. 

But sometimes little things bring it home to me. And affect me, even make me mad about how stupid Adam and Eve were in their effort to usurp God, and how we and nature itself reflects the utter catastrophe of the Fall. We blame God for not making things easier for us. But we had it easy when our first parents were in Paradise and we would have followed them, had they not disobeyed. What does that have to do with us? We are still doing it. We are told by God that we can have Paradise again, if we choose Him and not Satan--the very same choice that Adam and Eve had. And we diss God. 

So what got me started on this, besides being a little saddened by watching people I care about and have known literally for years fading away because of the Fall? And knowing I'm right behind them? (It's not morbid to think of this. We need to be ready, at least if you do believe that there is an afterlife and a meeting with God to account for our time here.)

One of the nursing facilities I visit has a few parking spaces above ground, but they are almost always full, so I have to go to the moderately sized underground parking. Today was a gorgeous day in Los Angeles. We never have cold weather like the Midwest or the East, but we do get down at night to the 50s and sometimes the 40s, and the days have of late been 60s and early 70s. Sweatshirt weather. 

We had some rain; we need more, but it was enough to clear the air and leave us blue puffy cloud skies, with just a touch of crispness in the air. So as I went into the parking garage I had been enjoying not having to use my car air conditioner and letting real air waft as I drove. I parked. And got out of the car to walk to one of the buildings. I could not believe that I was seeing a mouse just ahead of me. And because it didn't run as I walked forward, and seemed to be trying to get water from a small puddle remaining from the rain, I sensed that he must not be well. I am not afraid of mice or rats, but obviously I wasn't going to touch him, and I knew as some of the janitors started to come around, that he probably wasn't long for this world anyway. His dispatch would be coming sooner than I would have liked. Just a lousy mouse, no? And yet, even as I write, I feel terribly sad. This isn't how it was supposed to be. 

People aren't supposed to die. And neither are mice. I assume there were mice in Paradise. All creatures great and small. In paradise the lamb and the lion lay together, no? Something in me rebelled against this evidence of the Fall, this little mouse that was just trying to live and would be killed, if he did not die of whatever ailment was afflicting him when I encountered him. The friend I saw today is recovering from a health crisis this week.  And she was not doing as well as I would have hoped. "Early days," I tried to tell myself.

"What are you doing, Lord?" I yelled internally. I knew His answer. The truth. He didn't do it. And we know what we have to do. But will we? 




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