Maybe Jesus Had Eyes Like Tahoe.

I have the urge to write. That means there is stirring in my soul, conflict, unresolved items floating around, waiting to be sorted out, answered, somehow.
We have been taking advantage of these hot July weekends. We made it up to Sand Harbor again yesterday. That lake is so damn beautiful  you have to let your worries go when you look at it's clear, unbelievably turquoise waters, when you hear it's cold waves landing on the sand. How can you not? It's beauty is overwhelming and leaves no room for worries.
But then of course we drove back down the mountain.
And then, today in church, the song we sang in worship, 'Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in his wonderful face (what the does Jesus look like? He must be beautiful, maybe his eyes are like Tahoe), and the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of his glory and grace'.
The things of this earth: mortgages, the housing market, pay cuts.
They can all seem so overwhelming.  I can't just FORGET about them. They exist and are as real as the skin on my bones;  it is our roof and our food and our livelihood. Our life. Yet, somewhere in the midst of all those gnawing details there is beautiful truth I can be overwhelmed with, Jesus and his beauty and eternalness, and still be a good steward and responsible little human, wrestling with the choices we have to make down here on earth.
I haven't figured out how to live the paradox. But at least I know it exists. That's as good as it gets right now.