Sometimes It Stinks

My commute stinks. Literally.

I live in a fairly rural area, and my commute is mainly rural. No complaints from me, as I enjoy the trip through the corn fields, apple orchards and dairy farms, especially this time of year when the apple blossom are getting ready to burst.

However, it also comes with stink, and lots of it. Farmers are cleaning out barns, spreading liquid manure (a special kind of aromatic experience), windows are open, and it smells...bad.

Spiritual life is like this. I will be going along, windows down, singing, enjoying the view, and then's like running over a skunk. The stink of sin and tear-inducing whallop of suffering hits. I want to put all the windows up, ward off the smell, but that doesn't help. It still seeps in. It stinks, and there is very little I can do except endure.

Then, it's gone. In the spiritual life, I have to confess, pray, hold my nose against my own stupid selfishness, put my head down against that cruel comment, and then it's all apple blossoms and freshness again.

Don't let the stink get you down, folks, on the only commute that counts - the one to Heaven.

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