I had a Pounding the Pavement Therapy Session tonight.
I don’t mean the kind of therapy when you are so frustrated, you pound your head on a brick wall though that comes in handy too sometimes.
I’m talking about nothing but a pair of tennis shoes (well, not totally nothing, just to clarify!) and the great outdoors with a speeds that rival the Fast and the Furious. Okay, so I got winded passing a granny walking with a cane but...you get the idea.
My husband gave me a strange look tonght when I hopped out of bed, swapped my pajamas for running clothes and said, “Well, I’m going on a run” He nodded slowly, no doubt thinking that anything that would help me be more sane is an worthy investment even though he would have to figure out how to nurse our up-all-night-baby...but that’s another blog for another day.
The sidewalk stretched before me like a highway to freedom and the cool night air breathed life into my soul.
As I breathed in cold air, my eyes released hot tears and my jumbled thoughts begin to crystallize in the absence of my daily noise and distractions.
I feel I can’t keep up with my life. At times, I feel I can’t keep my house clean, finish projects and even find time to return phone calls and emails! Heck, it’s a good day if I had time to make my bed...or flush the toilet before I hit the ground running again.
My list of complaints about myself to my Best Friend that loves me no matter what went on...and on...
...and on... (I think I added a few about my husband too...though those were harder to come up with, of course!).
Finally I ended my conversation with God (oh wait, can it be a conversation if I’m the only one talking?? Hmmm....) with my final beef.
“And sometimes I'm not happy about things in my life.”
Then, I did something rare and wonderful: I shut up.
When I heard God’s response, I nearly tripped over my own two feet while I was running.
He replied, “Good.”
Excuse me?!! Pardon me? Did I hear that correctly?! Did the God of the universe just say it was a GOOD thing that I wasn’t always HAPPY?
But that was also the moment I started to smile as I understood in my heart exactly what He meant, “I am more concerned that you are HOLY than HAPPY. You are being sanctified and part of that process means your life is out of your control and that’s EXACTLY where I want it to be.”
Then I started laughing when I thought of Carrie Underwood’s song, “Jesus, Take the Wheel.” The problem with my life lately is Jesus has not been at the wheel, heck-there are days I haven’t even l let him in the passenger seat but rather assign him a spot in the trunk (good thing he has supernatural breathing powers!).
Everytime my tennis shoes made contact with the pavement, this one thought exploded in my brain, “Give. Him. Control.”
So easy to think...so hard to do!
But in theory, letting Jesus take control of my life could become easier and easier to do if I would actually practice it (as most things we practice eventually become...like this run that is KILLING my lungs at the moment!).
Next time I sit down at my computer, overwhelmed, why not give Him control by saying a quick prayer that He would be with me and make my (short) time I have to catch up more effective, more...purposeful?
And maybe when the dishes pile and laundry breeds like bunnies in the basement, I could ask God what is more important: the mess or my little kids that won’t be little much longer? Then, when he answers (which, hm...I’m pretty sure I know what THAT answer will be)...why not ask for His grace to ignore the mess until I can tackle it later...in HIS power.
So, Jesus take the wheel.
And I’ll take to the pavement to clear my head when I forget who should be in charge of my life. The One who promised, “I have plans for you...plans for a hope and a future!” (Jeremiah 29:11)
Until today, I never knew a trip to the bathroom could be a scary and exciting adventure.
What to do in a house with only one toilet, a toilet that is momentarily sitting outside the bathroom as the bathroom gets remodeled?
This is a question that didn’t concern me until today when my eyes began to water from holding it so long. After a quick check-in with the construction crew working on my bathroom, I noted their Jamaican roots and loyalty to Bob Marley were shining through. The theme of the day was definitely, “Don’t worry, be happy!”, so I left them to their lack of worries to attend to my own: namely, where could I quickly find a functioning toilet?!
The face of our elderly and kindly neighbor lady, Mrs. Smith, floated (literally!) to my panicked mind. Of course! Plus, it could be a two-for-one deal as she is always imploring me to visit more often. The majority of my gang were being cared for (aka, SPOILED!) by the grandparents for the day, so I grabbed my baby and trekked the long distance of twenty feet to arrive at Mrs. Smith’s house.
Of course, she was more than delighted to see me. Okay, she was probably mostly delighted to see my baby (who could blame her?! He is MUCH better looking!!) so I accepted her offer to sit down and chat, all the while thinking to myself: MUST. GO. PEE!
“HOW ARE YOU, HONEY!?” Sweet lil’ Mrs. Smith SHOUTS everything as she can’t hear to save her soul so I guess she assumes the same is true for the rest of the world’s population.
“GOOD, JUST STAYING BUSY!” I shouted back.
“WHAT?! YOU’VE BEEN DIZZY!!? ARE YOU EATING ENOUGH??”
“NO, I SAID, JUST STAYING BUSY!” I tried to smile while shouting so it didn’t seem so rude.
“NO YOU’RE NOT YOU SAY!? THAT’S TOO BAD! BUT THIS BABY IS SO FAT, I GUESS HE IS EATING ENOUGH! CAN I HOLD HIM?”
“YES. WHICH REMINDS ME (since I never forgot), CAN I USE YOUR RESTROOM QUICKLY!?”
“I DON’T KNOW WHY YOU DON’T SPEAK UP, DEAR! I CAN’T HEAR A THING YOU SAY!” Mrs. Smith shook her head at me and frowned.
“SORRY! CAN I USE YOUR RESTROOM?”
“DID YOU SAY RESTROOM??! OF COURSE, THEN I’LL HOLD THIS FAT BABY!” As I handed my baby off to her, she shook slightly and I felt like I was placing treasure on the edge of a cliff but then she grabbed him tightly and shooed me off. Whew, relief at last!!!
I pulled the bathroom door shut and nearly screamed when I turned around and discovered the toilet was almost as tall as me. There was some sort of enormous plastic doughnut on top and after a quick and apprehensive appraisal of the device, I decided it seemed fairly bonded with the toilet so I nervously climbed aboard.
I had just conquered the Mt. Kilimanjaro of toilets when I heard Mrs. Smith shouting through the door,
“I DON’T THINK THERE IS TOILET PAPER IN THERE!”
I looked down at the toilet paper holder which was now below sea-level and felt great dismay to see the toilet paper roll was indeed naked as a jaybird. I was definitely going to need some as I also had a nose-bleed at the moment from the dizzying height of the toilet. At least now if I told Mrs. Smith I was busy and she thought I said dizzy, it would be true.
“OKAY....DO YOU HAVE ANY MORE?” I didn’t mean to be a princess and a pea here but toilet paper was a pretty important part of this equation.
“JUST COME OUT AND FIND SOME KLEENEXES, DEAR.” Oh, sure. Easier said than done without someone to belay for me as I rappelled down this porcelain giant!
After a field-trip through her entire house that was hard to see through my blurry vision as my bladder had now overflowed, Kleenexes were (JOYFULLY!) discovered on a dresser in the guest bedroom.
After repeating all of the above one more time, I felt like a new woman. All I had to do now was wash my hands and it was a done deal.
I turned on the faucet and went to grab a pink bar of soap in the soap dish when I nearly (once again!) screamed aloud. That was NO pink soap, that was Mrs. Smith’s teeth! My hand froze just as it was about to make contact with some back molars and I decided a little dirt never hurt.
By the time I exited her bathroom, I was exhausted. Maybe it was the shouting, climbing the toilet-mountain, the dizzying heights, a quest for tissue or cardiac arrest from my hand nearly being eaten by a floating set of teeth, but I never knew a simple trip to the bathroom could be so...COMPLICATED!
“ARE YOU OKAY, HONEY? IT SURE TOOK YOU A LONG TIME IN THERE AND THIS CUTE, FAT BABY IS GETTING SO HEAVY!”
I swooped my baby back into my arms and gave dear Mrs. Smith a big hug. I guess we all need a little adventure in our lives and sometimes it shows up in the most unlikely of places!
