A Blog Post is Sinking in the Lonesome Sea

Random Carter Family portrait

It’s been a relatively long string of time (about a month) since I have put my fingers to the keys on this here blog of mine. I suppose it may be that I have been busy with a variety of things—best called “life”. Work has taken me around the western portion of these United States and when I have been off and at home (and in between the children’s sport events) we have taken to going on drives and visiting the solitude of mountains and other quiet places to run rampant.

I’ve been thinking a lot of many things I could (and perhaps should) write in this space. In fact, all the good ideas flood my brain when I’m traveling down the highway in eighth-over with 80,000 pounds under me. When I can, I’ll jot it down in my Moleskine notebook. Generally, the good ideas are as good as gone when I have a rare moment to tap on this laptop’s keyboard and “write”. A blogger could write a country song about his blog posts (or the absence thereof). I just ramble on about the lack of content or time to create it; it’s the equivalent to the low and lonesome sound of a Carter Family song such as Sinking in the Lonesome Sea.

He bowed his head and down sank he
Farewell, farewell to the Merry Golden Tree
For I’m sinking in the low and lonesome low
For I’m sinking in the lonesome sea

A Stranger and a Vagabond—and Old Lunch Pales

Photo: Matt Valdez
Photo: Matt Valdez
“Further up and further in”
C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle

Topically, my blogging is all over the place. I reckon I’m in a state of restlessness as I wait anxiously for my wife to hatch out the new addition to our family. That restless feeling shows up in every day situations as a regular special guest on my own personal imaginary day time talk show. You are welcome to go back and read that last sentence to try to forge some sense from it–you have my blessing. My whole personality is in the middle of a paradigm shift, betwixt being a father of four to being a father of five. I’m not the one who will go into labor–my wife will. I’ll be there with her, but it will be her doing the laboring. So, in my traditional way of writing, with no real clear thesis, I believe I shall jump to the next paragraph.

Regaining coherence from the first paragraph, I am trying to convey my shotgun style writing as of late. In some posts I may write about some rock in Wyoming. In another post I may jot out word counts about aging folk singers I have never met, and in others still, I may rant about hypocrisy–the Church’s hypocrisy and my own hypocrisy. All over the place kind of blogging; a smorgasbord of a melting pot of literary cheese.

I really am searching for a common theme for this blog. My initial intention in starting this blog was to contrive a boat load of posts that would attract a million followers, magnetize the advertisements and ivory tower publishers, get stupidly wealthy churning out wordy basura, and retire in the Caymans while I blog about my successes. Since that may be a logistical nightmare to materialize, my secondary purpose was to be content with what I have and write about whatever comes to mind. As a Christian and recovering All Dogs Go to Heaven watcher, the common thread [subliminal message alert] is to do whatever I do for God’s glory.

As the tagline to my blog, Another Wayfaring Pilgrim, suggests, I have a passion for the nomadic and sense of not belonging in this world. The random lunch pale photo above somehow ties into this vagabond sentiment I have, though I am really not sure how. Perhaps if I throw out big words I do not understand, the connection will magically appear and this post will not be for naught. Negatory on that, Rubber Ducky.

I’m going to have to buckle down and work hard to makeshift some semblance out of this post. Starting with the photo, the lunch box and book beside it incite a fleeting desire to ramble which has some connection to the very heart of what lies deep in this reality of Christianity. As C.S. Lewis said in Mere Christianity, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”  I believe that’s what that “rambling fever” that we all find exists within us is driving at.

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

Among other things, it’s Thermos pales, stray reading material, a compass, and Moleskine notebooks which arouses my soul to feel this overwhelming peculiarity, the desire for that other country. It’s not some subjective wantonness to abandon all loved ones and  responsibilities, but it’s the desire to reach that glories destination where my Redeemer is. This wanderlust, if you can call it that, actually causes me to refocus and enjoy, love, and appreciate my wife and children and all the new responsibilities that come with having a family. If anything, the understanding that “this world is not my home and I’m just a-passing through” obliges me to take care of how I dwell here and how I care for the blessings God has entrusted to me. Again, it’s overwhelming and wonderful.

I’d like to write more often but I have to work


I’d like to blog more, write more, but I must pay the bills in the mean time. I reckon that’s how it is with most of us on here. Creativity is a leisure ballasted (a maritime term used by a land lubber!) by work and other responsibilities. We do a) so that we may get to b).

More incomplete thoughts and half finished blog posts shall come. My truck is about warmed up and ready to haul. Carry on!