Beat Down, Blocked, and Bouyed...all in the Course Of A Day~

It was a rough day. One of those days when you feel like you are floundering. Not quite drowning, yet…but more like paddling endlessly…flailing arms…kicking feet…fruitlessly afloat (barely)….floundering.

Woke up just like any other normal day…in Paradise, nonetheless…and was just peachy. Got in my car…and set out. Had myself a little gameplan for a simple Sunday, and off I went.

Halfway down the road, that cellphone (oh yes, that cell phone) buzzes. Bzzzzz….Bzzzz…Bzzzzz. I thought of letting it go to voicemail (as any of you who call me will I am sure be completely shocked by…) but at the last second, snatched it up to find out what was going on in the world. The faceless, bodyless, voice informed me of an optional change of plans for my day…and boy did it sound great! Now I had a dilemma. I, being a creature of (beloved) habit, relish my routine. I mean really, really love the constancy of cyclical days and a peaceful, predictability. Yes, yes I do.

But this opportunity seemed too good to pass up, so I rearranged my day around it. Much of the morning was spent in anticipation of the event (which was set to occur in the afternoon). I was practically abuzz with excitement. I drove to the complete other side of the island, looking forward to the outing. I got there a bit early and waited…and waited….and waited. I tried to busy myself with reading my book. * It was so hot * Then I decided to write a blog post * I didn’t have my computer in my car, would you believe it? * And then I grasped for straws as I resorted to ye olde standby: taking a nap on the beach *Dang. Did I mention it was hot today *….

After almost two hours of this, and still waiting to hear from my rendezvous arranger, I was “over it” (as I often seem to be lately…moody as a cheap ring from an 80’s bubble gum machine). My patience was wearing thin (my shoes would have been too, from the pacing to and fro, had I been wearing any). My skin was growing red (my face was growing red…irish temper, you know). My eyelids were getting heavy (alongside my heart)….and I was (you guessed it)…over it~

Embracing the sneaky suspicion that I had been either completely forgotten, or worse, forsaken, I turned the key in the ignition, put the pedal to the floor, and got the heck out of there. My house was calling. My heart was in need of the healing balm of home…the gentle sway of my peacechair, the familiar beats of my Itunes flowing, and (most importantly) the door firmly closed against the world and all the drama, drain, and hurt that could possibly touch me “out here”. The entire drive home I was consoling myself that this is the comfort I would find within those four walls, and that in this…I would make it through this day intact.

But before I could get to that door, in order to close this mean, scary world out…I had to step over a package….on my porch…addressed to me…and it was BIG. I literally had to pick it up, and physically move it aside just to make it into my house. I opened it…and unleashed the no-holds-barred fury of love. It assaulted my every sense: Straight slapped me in the face with familiar friendship; Filled my nostrils with the scent of solidarity and support; thrilled my eardrums with the melody of mothers’ love (biological and otherwise); renewed my vision with images of light and laughter; and as I devoured it all…its taste was sweeter on my lips than any honey imaginable.

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Yep. It was a sh**ty day (sorry, it just was). All I wanted to do was get home and shut out the world..lick my wounds…and start again tomorrow. God, in His abundant mercy, grace (and sense of humor, perhaps?) made this impossible for me to do…without first going through (literally and figuratively) an obstacle course of goodness…*trumped again by the Big Guy, it would appear*….but not complaining~