The Winter Commuter Blues

(Begins with a musical prelude to the tune of every 12-bar blues song you've ever heard)

I woke up this morning (da-da-da-da)

Had to get out of bed (da-da-da-da)

It was all dark and cold (da-da-da-da)

Thought I'd stay asleep instead (da-da-da-da)

[Something about going to work

General complaint about life being gloomy]

Singin' yeeeeah...

Babe, you know

I've got the winter commuter blues

Yes, that's right folks, life for me at the moment is a bit like a blues song - a blues song, that is, written by an English teacher who lives 45 minutes (in good traffic) away from work and who, therefore, leaves for work in the dark and comes home in the dark. Add to that a goodly (or not-so-goodly) measure of marking, at all sections of the day except for the bits where I'm driving, and you get the idea. So not all that much like a blues song, when I think about it, but I'm maintaining with the comparison because I think it's funny.

Today being Saturday I was able to get up during daylight, and found myself feeling a little like a liberated convict when I went outside and walked around Brunswick to meet friends for lunch, and later on to go for a walk - just a walk - by Merri Creek. It was amazing how much my mind and soul seemed to be revitalised by such a simple act but one which my life of late has not allowed.

My father used to have a saying which he drilled into me from an early age: you change the things you can change, and put up with the things you can't. It's a tad blunt but true enough, I suppose. So in situations like the one in which I currently find myself, I have to ask: what things can I change, and what things must I simply put up with? I can't move closer to work, not just yet - those sorts of things can't be done overnight. I can't change the times of day that the sun is currently inclined to rise or set. I can't do much to reduce my workload. I'm sure, however, that in amongst all the necessity and stress, there's space for change. But I need some sort of distance from the situation to see these things.

This, I believe, is where prayer becomes paramount. Prayer forces us outside of our situation and forces us into God's way of looking at things - very hard when the situation seems all-consuming, but so necessary. Prayer also turns "putting up" with a tough, unchangeable situation into something that might be better called "endurance". Putting up with a situation is done with gritted teeth. Endurance is done with the patient resolve that only the Holy Spirit can fully provide.

So next time I write a (bad) song about my life, I hope it's more like a gospel song, with space for melancholy but also with a heart-lifting chorus about hope and rising beyond my afflictions. But it won't be me writing the song (which may be an improvement in itself). It'll be the power of prayer and the Holy Spirit. It isn't a song I can write myself.