Bees in My Bonnet

 The word Ego comes from Freudian psychoanalytical theory. And often it is thrown about as a rather negative concept. We speak of 'ego-trips' and 'inflated ego' and having a 'big ego.' None of these are compliments. I don't pretend to know or really understand Freud's concepts, especially regarding the ego. I have a vague concept that it refers to the surface self - the self that needs affirming, the controlling self - the self that is frail and needs tender handling. The ego, by its very nature, is somewhat fragile. Some spiritual mystics may even use the term 'false self' though I'm not sure this is an entirely accurate correlation. Whatever you think of Freud, it seems fairly obvious that we have distinct parts of ourselves that show up as we traverse life - our goings about in society, seclusion, community - both distant and intimate. Anyone who would argue that they truly don't have an ego might take it upon themselves to prove it by...

 I grew up with what I call 'missionary spirit'. Basically it goes something like this: the world is lost and dying in their sins. I know the Gospel. I should go tell them. Then they won't be lost, and I can feel like a hero. Or something like that. If I heard it once, I heard it a thousand times: the message of surrender. What if God calls me to a hard place? Yes, I'll go. What if God gives me suffering to bring about His glory? Yes, I'll receive it. What if God asks me to give up something I treasure to honour Him? Yes, I'll give it up. These are messages of surrender. And yes, these are messages taken straight out of the Bible. Jonah was told to go and didn't want to. Don't be like Jonah. Job was asked to suffer, and He honoured God in it, but it was a struggle. Abraham was called to leave his home and go somewhere God would show him along the way. Moses was called to leave his palace and intervene for God's people. Moses' mother was called to...

 Sometimes you can see the Grumbling People Not by their words so much as what they hide: Ever an eye to what others do that doesn't please, An ongoing wish, unfulfilled: 'If only...' Ideas spill out in demeanor and pursed lips.  "If everyone did things my way..."  And so hidden grumblings  Tense shoulders, harden countenance. The laugh lines in old faces Of those whose grumblings petered out long ago Speak of serene calm  Acceptance, mirth, a welcoming of all that is. Imperfections abound,  The banality of grumbling Becomes so commonplace I can taste it like boiled potatoes on a hot summer day. The erosion of discontent does not smooth jagged lines As shards soften by waves of the sea. Whining souls only further fragment  Providing prickles for tender hearts to sustain. Grumbling people exist in our world: It is for us - those who see them, those who love them, To cushion with beauty, To soften with grace, To welcome the grumblers and open hospitable ...