Life of its own

Its funny.

Two weeks ago, I had this epiphany *snerk* and I had all this content I was just pouring out into the site. I was breaking it down into small chunks so I could better bounce from one theme to another as I cogitated and chewed on all this stuff in my head. I was going to pour hard and fast into these different themes, then try to release them every day or two, to keep things fresh.

Then life gets in the way.

The more I surrender to Christ’s direction, the more I am pulled and stretched. And interestingly, the more I discover I am able to survive. To grow. In unexpected directions.

I’ve been trying to lose weight and get healthier. I’m trying to get more exercise — something I know I’m lacking in my sedentary line of work. I’ve committed that I will go to the YMCA every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night.

On Monday, I came home from work, had a nice “light” dinner of GeorgeForeman salmon, and a spring greens salad (two bowls of salad), and a couple of cookies or something for dessert. I ate quickly after 6pm so it would have time to settle before I went to the YM at 8pm.

Just as I finish eating, George calls me with some cryptic message about confirming that I am the executor of his will. Then he hangs up. He’s committing suicide again — I’m somehow certain of it. I rush out the door to George’s house wearing nothing more than gym shorts and a jacket (and my Keen’s). On the way there, I am unsuccessful at getting our pastor on the phone, so I call the church secretary (who’s also a friend) and put her in the communications chain.

I get to George’s. He’s okay, but he had everything laid out. I get mad at him (not the best protocol under these circumstances) and basically bitch him out until our pastor shows up an hour or so later. The pastor is much more patient with George, draws him out, and gets him talking about the future.

In the end, he suggests that George and I need to get out of the house and get something to eat. So we go to Perkins where I eat another meal, not wanting him to feel on the spot. George tells me that when I burst in on him, he had just walked out of the bathroom. If he hadn’t stopped to tinkle, he’d have already swallowed the pills.

Backing up, while our pastor was talking to him, I am reconciling my terror. I’m telling God that I can’t do this, that I’m so glad our pastor was here and why did He put me in this situation which I obviously can’t handle. He explained, “You did handle it, just as I needed you to. You were here when the pastor was not, and now you are okay. You were pressed with what you could handle, and nothing more.”

And God was right. *grin* I was okay. I was emotionally exhausted, but that would recover with rest.

Which is what I did on Tuesday. I came home from work, on a cloudy gray day that triggered a Seasonal Affective response, ate too much, watched a movie and went to bed marginally early. I had hoped to spend time working on my bathroom ventilation system, in anticipation of my folks being here next week. Instead I slept and moved the vent project to Wednesday.

Wednesday, on my way home from work, Road calls. She is having a crisis in her life because of the Bob. She had tried to call me while I was still at work, but I was unable to take the call, so she was out with her friend Becky instead. Her youngest daughter was at a church function, so I went and picked up her oldest daughter. We went to the mall and shopped and had dinner at Subway on the food court.

I dropped her off around 9, and her mom still needed to talk. I left Road’s at 11, got home and crashed.

Tonight is TV night in College Town with Christine. She’s on a home remodelling kick, but I hope to convince her that I just want, just NEED to watch TV tonight. I need to rest and let my brain recover.

All of this, and I haven’t forgotten about Kelly. I sent 6 roses last weekend, and will send a dozen this Sunday. I am still debating if I want to go deliver them myself. Part of me doesn’t think it will make a difference — not in a negative way.

I’m feeling accellerated. Suddenly everything that I do is loaded with import, but not my own import. With Christ’s import, with God’s plans. I am skeptical that my delivering them in person would make a difference, because “whatever” is supposed to happen would still happen even if I sent the flowers to Alaska!

Anyway, its just interesting how this week, life seems to have taken on a Life of its own. It is certainly not a Life of mine own.