Thursday, July 21, 2005

Our theme for tonight, which happens to be the last meeting of this week, could easily be expressed in a single word, but that wouldn’t make a good discussion, would it? I could mumble the word and then we’d sit in uncomfortable silence, looking at our own feet and clearing our throats until someone fell asleep.

Or I could begin by telling you a story. My co-worker’s father was a minister, and accordingly parishioners would lay their problems before him. One woman’s trouble went something like this. She had grown weary of the world, weary to the point where she wanted to kill herself. The preferred method? Carbon monoxide. She got into her car, started the engine, and sat there for an eternity. Outside. On her driveway. I don’t know if she ran out of gas.

This is fertile ground for theological discourse, I imagine, and at Moody they’re probably still debating whether this woman lived because of divine grace or stark incompetence. There’s the word, by the by: incompetence. Surely I’m not advocating the local college hold competency courses on suicide, where the professor would say during roundtable, “If you have to go, go with a hose in your nose. Write that down, write that down now.” That would be horrible. I’m merely saying the story fascinates, doesn’t it?

I also met a panhandler today who was too busy to ask for money because she was on her cellphone. Hi! I didn’t realize it was Incompetence Day, though I guess we never have off for any of the good holidays. I’m simply not as amenable to people who beg for want of better decaling on their mobiles. Additional ringtones, yes. Decaling, no. I’m putting my foot down on this one. We’re all incompetent in some capacity, and I’m certainly no exception. I’m guilty of it, I propagate it, but today? I’m just sharing it.