delivery

I used to order organic flour, raisins, and peanut butter--things like that--from a wholesaler. I've fallen off that wagon now but I still receive e-mails alerting me to deliveries. Nancy used to send out the news but since she fell sick, a guy named Joshua has taken over.

joshua
delivery

This is what I see in my inbox every two weeks or so, and though I never click on the e-mail I'm rather fond of the subject line, especially since it's from Joshua. It makes me think of a Biblical prophet announcing my salvation.

I have some things Joshua could deliver me out of, don't you? I'd like to give him a catalogued list sometime. But then I wonder, as Merry has in the past about perfection, if that is something I really desire. "I mean, you wouldn't have anything to work on anymore," Merry has told me. She's right. If you were practically perfect in every way, what would you possibly find to overcome anymore?

There are so many small things that plague me, but the journey to overcoming them (which is a journey without an end, as far as I can tell), is worthwhile. For instance, even though I've been a writer for many years now, starting a new writing project is still daunting for me. The blinking cursor, the blank page. I feel as if I have to take a deep breath and jump that hurdle every time. And often my shins are all skinned by the end and I have to go back to the beginning and start over again.

Maybe, too, I secretly love my vices just a little bit. Sometimes it feels really good to lose my cool and shout, though afterward I feel as if I've lost something. Again--more than just my temper.

Joshua,today deliver me from the stress of the week into a long, cool happy hour.