I looked through the fogged shower glass to the alarm clock beside my bed. Okay, twenty-seven minutes to be exact. Still, twenty-seven minutes alone in my head can be an eternity... and I had yet to do anything but stand under the spray of hot water.
I decided then to speed things up by taking a man's shower. That is to say, I'd skip the loofah and hair conditioner and use the woodsy-smelling green bottle of 3-N-1, instead of the three lilac scented pastel bottles meant to be used successively. The combination was meant to unlock a woman's secret beauty according to the happy spokeswoman on their paid advertising blocks during television's insomnia shift.
Ha! (had that been aloud?) With no secrets and no beauty to unlock, I should be able to knock this shower out with a one-two punch: hair, body, out! I had things to do, important, pressing things and I needed to finish them right away. Just as soon as I remembered what they were. Maybe they'd come back to me if I slowed down and shaved my legs.
"That's not very manly." I told myself
"But it's fine" I answered me "because I'm not actually a man and I'm skipping other things."
Onward, upward. "Always start with shampoo." Momma taught me that. "In case the water runs cold, at least your hair will be clean." There was a time when water heaters weren't so automatic. And I guess this is true however far back you care to stretch it.
Okay, God. Here we are. Just you and me. I don't know what to say. I don't really feel anything.
I'm not unhappy. I'm not fighting the urge to cry. I just am, you know what I mean? Ha! Yes, you do- of course you do, you're the one who said "I AM" I mean... well, what do I mean ? I don't know. I just feel like I should talk to you but, you already know me, you know what's going on and I don't feel like I have anything to report. So, here I am wanting to talk but without a whole lot to say. It all feels so...obvious.
"Fo-cus, fo-cus, fo-cus" I work a lather in my hair to the rhythm of my own friendly reminder."One thing at a time." God, if only I could have you unscramble this brain of mine. You must want me like this- but why? How does it possibly glorify you that I forget pretty much everything and get sidetracked mid-sentence?
Here we go. I know what I need to do- it's all I know to do, God. Please forgive me for being so casual...and naked...in your presence. We have to take baths down here, it's ungodly when we don't.
No, no I don't think I'm funny. I hadn't planned that. Okay, well, it did make me chuckle a little.
I've just got to start or we are never going to get through. Gosh, that sounds like Wonka in the elevator, doesn't it? Is saying Gosh kinda like calling you Josh? Why am I like this?!
"Our Father..."
God you are my dad, and you are their dad, too... you're not just mine, you're ours. How curious that the people I just pictured are from so long ago. I realize you love them, too... as much as you love me. Help me to be a better sibling to the ones you know I'm struggling to love. You know who they are. More importantly, so do I. I don't have an excuse- I just need help. Thank you.
"Who art in Heaven..."
Why do I still pray in King James? It's weird but it gives me the frame to hang my own modern words. It's funny how every time, this prayer is different even though it is exactly the same. Maybe that's why you said 'pray like this' instead of 'pray these words'. I'll have to go re-read that passage, but I'm pretty sure that's how it is phrased... ah "Who art...who is...God you are in Heaven, which means that you are in a fixed place where I can find you. You aren't hiding from me. You are here- there, I mean- well, here too. And you are way up there-high in the sky, although I'm not sure that's scientifically correct...or theologically sound... but still we got that imagery from somewhere and it stuck, but, you know, I realize it means that you can see further down the road from so high- so, please give me the directions I need to get to where I'm going. God, I have no idea where I'm going...and I'm so very hard of hearing.
"Hallowed be thy name"
Yes, I honor you- I am thankful and also so sorry for not being more thankful. Thank you for the daily bread you faithfully provide. I know I'm skipping ahead now, but thank you. I ask for your help being a better, more cautious steward. Help me to pass on what you've provided. I feel as if I'm becoming accustomed to living out of abundance and....and I'm confused a little. I mean, I believe that you will provide and that you will fill the bread basket to flow over into the baskets of others if we are diligent to share... man I wish that didn't sound like so much like a prosperity gospel bit... but, I really do believe that you'll give to me so that I can give to others even if I got that idea from a wolf on t.v.- which I probably did but I can't remember now. I don't want to lose sight of that. That you gave it so I could share it, not spend more of it on fluff and stuff.
I haven't been looking to give very actively this last little stretch...as you well know- I haven't been doing anything well at all for this last little stretch... but, I don't know. I feel like not living out of guilt is ideal but I also feel like I kind of need that guilt as motivation. Just help me please- to be more aware and to meet the needs of others.To give more thought when I am spending and to show more discipline than I have been. Show me where I can make a difference whenever I next turn on my phone- a goFund me or stated need- if you don't mind- just bring something to my attention.
"Thy kingdom come..."
I mean, your Kingdom is coming or it's here and expanding according to some beliefs, or it's gonna be here soon or maybe later- but, well, we don't really understand the Kingdom on our own. You tried to explain it to us and we know that it is different than here- we know things have to operate differently to be of the kingdom, so please help us-- me, I mean- teach me to be a citizen of your Kingdom. God, this may be heresy, I don't know, but help me to live my life for the Kingdom even if the only definition of Kingdom is how we live our lives here on Earth- I'm not saying that's what I think- I just mean, help me to understand how to live right now and not so much with an expectation of a payout in streets of gold in the future. You know how difficult all that is for me to even picture. Streets of gold? It doesn't appeal to me anywhere near the beauty of kindness and restored lives, healed bodies and homelessness no more. I want to love others. And I always mean to do just that. And I do okay with friendliness toward strangers. I can hold big ideals of unity and forgiveness up to the light and cast rainbows all about the room. But the actual meanies-- those who smirk and say "You HAVE to forgive me because that's what you Christians do." those are the difficult ones and I know, those are the only ones you're really going to count. Letting go of..well, the thing... those things... that we have talked about, that you see me re-visit again and again in my mind... I don't know, I just keep searching for the meaning, for that one loose thread that's supposed to tie it all together and make my story an open and shut fable, complete with moral take-a-way. Even when I already know it doesn't work like that.Help me to allow the villains in my story to become beloved friends.
No one is going to remember me soon, do you realize that? I mean- you're God. Of course you do. I love how I'm always stating the obvious to you. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be flippant, just real. I mean- after my parents, I can't think of anyone who will care for a memory of me. My grandparents are all already gone. My siblings get along fine without me. My teenagers aren't banking many cherished moments in my company these days and my husband- well, you see everything. I think he'd miss me but not all of me. Not the parts that confound him. Which is fine, because I don't understand me either. I don't know-all I mean is no one really needs me now. There won't be a gaping hole. And even if there were, those fill in within a lifetime, if not sooner.
News of my death will set amongst my family members like the news of their deaths have set with me: melancholy for a moment and then that relentless marching forward. We are always marching forward. Granny taught me to to crochet, right? But all I've got are a bunch of half squares and random chains of yarn to show for it. What good was passing it on to me if it never turned into a heart felt gift for a newborn baby? Where are all those granny square booties she made for us at these days, anyway?
I'm not planning to leave any sort of major legacy- I have no blueprints to change the world. No money. Sometimes that leaves me feeling... indifferent? Pointless. I don't know. I am spiraling quickly into Ecclesiastes territory: all is vanity, what's the point? Help me to make the time you grant me count... or help me to care less about what it all means. Either way, be thou my vision. I don't even know that song but- okay. Yes, it fits and I guess I understand why someone wrote it into one. Help me to enjoy this life and make it count for whatever reason you gave it to me, even as I lack an understanding of what that reason is.
Sometimes I wonder what a brain not exposed to King James English and old hymns sounds like.
"...Thy will be done..."
That's just the thing, isn't it? Your will is the Kingdom and it can't be here until we are different. I mean- that's what I feel I've learned. Imagining having to share Heaven with 'them' helped me see that better. Like, if we hide from people in the grocery store, how can we expect to enjoy holding hands and singing hymns in heavenly robes, right? It's still awkward...and hard to do. Sometimes, so hard really. And typically I only get past one or two individuals. Sometimes the same individuals I tried to imagine sharing Heaven with before. There are some I still can't even imagine sharing space with at this point. But I think realizing my limits there helps me to understand. If we can't be loving here, we aren't ready for Eternity together. I see that.
I wonder if I wrote something on my blog about how Facebook is like the Kingdom of Heaven would that be a little like blasphemy? The Facebook Kingdom? For Thine Is The Facebook? "What Facebook Taught Me About Heaven? Bleh. I don't want to write anything spiritual. I am not Seeds From The Sower. Gag me with a Guidepost.
Why do I want to write when I also have nothing to say? I wish it would leave me alone or I could harness it and ride to someplace good. I have nothing nice to say... no clever stories waiting to get out. Why this preoccupation? Why do I always spin my wheels on pointless stuff when I really need the energy elsewhere?Soap. Peanut Butter. Blogging. Coffee For Lunch. I can be so...
Still...there it all is. Old flames and bullies- people who hurt us or remember embarrassing things about us...the people we were happy to leave behind are no longer out of sight or mind anymore. Being on social media really has been an exercise in facing the past and the future as the people we have been and are becoming.
I just shampooed my hair. Why am I doing it again? I know the bottle says I can, but I didn't intend to. This was supposed to be a quick shower.
"Forgive us our debts as we forgive our...."
Wait. Wait. I don't know if this would be wrong or not- I'm not sure of the verbatim wording you used and I'm not trying to change your words, but if I could... please, please do not forgive me my debts as I forgive my enemies. Cause I'm severely lacking there. Lord knows- I mean- you know-how some of those things that I want 'closure' on are just excuses to keep certain stories as part of my identity. Those stories help explain how I got to this place in time, or that one... but if I am no longer the girl who was wronged at the end of the story or--and this just happened recently--if I realize it was me who actually owns the blame, well, who will I be then? I dread a bigger scoop of this mode of just being... of numbness... not sorrow or joy... just breathing, blinking, auto-pilot me. If the stories that brought me here are erased by Grace, how do I avoid becoming more blank?
Can I just ask you to teach me to forgive folks according to your measure of forgiveness for me? The difference being that you are the litmus of forgiveness rather than my ability? Would that be allowed or maybe it doesn't work that way. I'll have to go back and read that passage again too, but maybe that's what you wanted us to realize as we prayed it in the first place- that we are going to need help if the portions we give match the portions we get. I need help because the wounds are bigger than the Band-aids in my pocket, they outnumber them too. But I can't....cannot... proceed without your forgiveness. If you won't have me, where could I go? Oh, where could I go... dang this mental jukebox. Seriously, it's a little ridiculous, don't you think?
And also, this is why I don't write devotionals. I'm probably a wolf myself-deceiving myself and your sheep. I don't write them because I've quit reading them. I cringe at the idea of telling someone else what to think about God. I am just learning how to spell your name, myself.
I rinse my razor and go to the next leg. "I'm on my last leg" I mutter with a smirk. Why does that always amuse me? I'd once called it out as a reply to someone waiting for the bathroom and it continues to re-surface from shower to shower. It really lacks context to be funny. It would only be truly funny if I was one legged or if I died after saying it. Still, I insist on being amused. And this is me, talking back to myself.
"It's funny."
'Not really.'
"I'm still gonna smirk."
"For Thine is the kingdom and the Glory..."
I know I'm missing some parts. It's okay. It's all yours, it belongs to you, it's all you. I've got to get out and get busy.
"It's funny."
'Not really.'
"I'm still gonna smirk."
"For Thine is the kingdom and the Glory..."
I know I'm missing some parts. It's okay. It's all yours, it belongs to you, it's all you. I've got to get out and get busy.
I have no idea what I'm doing here. Sometimes I feel like you're teaching me. My teenagers frustrate me and then I realize that I'm pretty much still at that exact same stage- a spiritual teenager. The same girl I've always been is present and accounted for, only more sneaky and better at disguising huffs and puffs as "getting older".
I shut down the stream and wrap a towel around myself. I have not said 'amen'. I am thinking about the article online a friend shared, about Amen being some old Egyptian god and unsuitable for closing our prayers. I shrug it off, figuring that even if it were true, God knows our limited understanding in these matters. I don't say 'amen' because I am not finished praying- I never really am. Maybe I am just droning on to myself. A crazy person who talks to herself and has become convinced she's talking to God. Sometimes hearing from Him, too. How would we know the difference? Sheesh. I AM a piece of work, Sam-I-Am.
I use the bar of soap at the sink to clear a place on the fogged mirror like my dad taught me to do a long time ago. I wonder if it was a scouting thing like the sand to clean pots and pans or from some other adventurous chapter of his life.
There I am. I look me in the eyes. It unsettles me to hold my gaze as I think/pray, so I force myself to stop the mental chatter. I wait for a lightening bolt moment, but there is none of that. I am me and that's that. That's all there is to it. I look away.
I begin rearranging the vitamins on the bathroom counter so as to politely break eye contact with that girl in the mirror. Waiting on an Aha! reflection in the mirror is a waste of time, but I wouldn't want to hurt her feelings by affirming there's nothing to see. Straightening up is important and a good excuse to be on with it.
I move the Colloidal Silver to the side and think back to earlier in the day when my daughter told me she had a lip sore. "I need to get something for it. " she'd said " Something liquid maybe, that will make it go away rather quick, before it grows out of hand. " I had quietly rolled my eyes. I knew she wanted the silver, but couldn't bring herself to ask for it directly. She was afraid I'd say 'No', the unlikelihood that I would deny her access to medical care never figuring into her equation. She had almost quoted me about the quick healing properties of silver, but she was hinting around rather than asking outright.
I shut down the stream and wrap a towel around myself. I have not said 'amen'. I am thinking about the article online a friend shared, about Amen being some old Egyptian god and unsuitable for closing our prayers. I shrug it off, figuring that even if it were true, God knows our limited understanding in these matters. I don't say 'amen' because I am not finished praying- I never really am. Maybe I am just droning on to myself. A crazy person who talks to herself and has become convinced she's talking to God. Sometimes hearing from Him, too. How would we know the difference? Sheesh. I AM a piece of work, Sam-I-Am.
I use the bar of soap at the sink to clear a place on the fogged mirror like my dad taught me to do a long time ago. I wonder if it was a scouting thing like the sand to clean pots and pans or from some other adventurous chapter of his life.
There I am. I look me in the eyes. It unsettles me to hold my gaze as I think/pray, so I force myself to stop the mental chatter. I wait for a lightening bolt moment, but there is none of that. I am me and that's that. That's all there is to it. I look away.
I begin rearranging the vitamins on the bathroom counter so as to politely break eye contact with that girl in the mirror. Waiting on an Aha! reflection in the mirror is a waste of time, but I wouldn't want to hurt her feelings by affirming there's nothing to see. Straightening up is important and a good excuse to be on with it.
I move the Colloidal Silver to the side and think back to earlier in the day when my daughter told me she had a lip sore. "I need to get something for it. " she'd said " Something liquid maybe, that will make it go away rather quick, before it grows out of hand. " I had quietly rolled my eyes. I knew she wanted the silver, but couldn't bring herself to ask for it directly. She was afraid I'd say 'No', the unlikelihood that I would deny her access to medical care never figuring into her equation. She had almost quoted me about the quick healing properties of silver, but she was hinting around rather than asking outright.
So frustrating.
Perhaps she felt her chances of getting what she wanted were greater if she structured things so I felt it was my idea. "I'll ask her for something liquid and fast acting and let her realize on her own that silver best fits the bill. She will feel so smart, she will go get it and I can get rid of this thing quicker."
Silly rabbit, I thought as I slid the bottle back into the medicine cabinet- I just want you to ask for what you want, for what you need. Say "Mom, where's the silver. I need some for my lip." You're going to need to be direct in your adult life. And if I say no it's probably because I know of something better for that particular kind of sore.
Ha! (was that out loud? Probably.) Okay, I get it God. Haha. You just want me to come to you, too, to ask for what I need. Even when you already know. I get it. I mean, this isn't the first time I've realized it, but got it...message received, lesson remembered.
Silly rabbit, I thought as I slid the bottle back into the medicine cabinet- I just want you to ask for what you want, for what you need. Say "Mom, where's the silver. I need some for my lip." You're going to need to be direct in your adult life. And if I say no it's probably because I know of something better for that particular kind of sore.
Ha! (was that out loud? Probably.) Okay, I get it God. Haha. You just want me to come to you, too, to ask for what I need. Even when you already know. I get it. I mean, this isn't the first time I've realized it, but got it...message received, lesson remembered.
I am a silly rabbit, too.
Thank you Father, for not rolling your eyes at me.
Thank you Father, for not rolling your eyes at me.