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My Mother would go over “The Rules” every now and then, usually with a finger pointed at my nose.  The only two I can remember (besides, “Remember, I’m your Mother,” which I never doubted, but understood as some kind of somber threat) were:  “Before you marry a girl, look at her mother because that’s what she’ll look like in 40 years!” and “Just because it feels good doesn’t make it right.”

 

It was the latter one that I ignored a lot in my (very long) youthful days.  However, I’ve come to recognize that there are rules.  Example:  No matter how many times I hit myself on the thumb with an emotional/spiritual/real hammer, though I have every right and freedom to do so, it will not ever feel good in the end.  (Similarly, no matter how many times the addict gets high, he or she will always wake up in a deep funk the next morning.)  But what I really learned over the years is that the real rules are not restrictive and confining, as I once believed (and like a dog chafing to break loose from his collar, I resisted with a vengeance), but liberating and freeing.  I dare say, they’re borderline joyful.

 

My rambling point:  There are good and right ways to live our lives.  I’ve tried many self-destructive options, but the only self-constructive one I’ve found — that makes any sense and that leads to a genuine sense of joy and peace — is the option to welcome The Lord into my life.  Simplistic?  You bet.  On the money?  Absolutely!  — jri

 

“Blessed are they whose ways are blameless,

        –    Psalm 119:1-3