Crooked Finger (crookedfingers) wrote,
Crooked Finger

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theology is the guardian of the true church

It is 7:42 AM Wednesday morning. It snowed during the night here in West Michigan. It is depressing to see snow once again on the ground. There is snow everywhere and I am sick of seeing mountains of snow. Due to the recent warm weather the snow is slowly melting. We will have massive flooding not only here but throughout America as the snow melts. There is just one trouble after another. We are in the Last Days. The earth is groaning under the weight of man's sin.

I got up this morning around 7:05 AM. I made a pot of coffee and messed with our main computer. I am waiting for Carol to call me so as to pick her up when she is finished working. I do not forward to my wife leaving next week for Arizona. I wish Carol was not working and never had to go anywhere. I would like Carol to be with me all the time.

Yesterday was a super quiet for me. I did not go any where. I did not do anything but watch the birds, read, and write in my paper diary. When I feel anxious I write. I am always feel anxious. Right now I am sick with anxiety because Carol is leaving me next week and will be gone till April. Maybe I will never see Carol again. Maybe I will die alone here in this house. Maybe while Carol is gone someone will kill her. I do not want to die alone. The other day there was a news story about a woman who was found dead in her car in her garage. She been dead since 2006 and no one missed her not even her own sister. That woman had died in her car in 2006 and no one found her till 2014. Now that is sad.

Last night I read, "Proust At The Majestic: The Last Days Of The Author Whose Book Changed Paris" by Richard Davenport-Hines and watched television. I went to bed around 11:30 PM last night. Now it is another day to work out my salvation with fear and trembling.

I got out to read this morning my New King James Bible and my new Reformation Commentary on The Acts of the Apostles. Existence keeps speeding by. There is no way of escape.

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