Dust Bunnies and Revelations....

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death. –Romans 8:1,2

Yesterday I offered to help Shawna give her room a much needed cleansing-with school, teaching and John consuming her waking moments the room has been a bit neglected of late. I thought it might make her feel better mentally and physically (she’s been fighting a virus of some kind) to get it in order and I know how overwhelming it can be to get started. I’ve been in the mood to clean so I offered.

It began well enough. Sorting, dusting, talking [which I enjoy since we don’t get that opportunity like we used to] but soon she told me I was getting irritated with her and I didn’t have to help if I was going to get mad. My initial response was that I wasn’t mad and I really didn’t think I was-but the more I thought about it she was right. I was becoming critical and impatient with how she had allowed things to get so cluttered. I kept hearing Paul in my head…there is now no condemnation. None. I kept wondering how often Jesus has found the rooms in my life in much the same shape. I kept wondering how often I avoid him when I’m not up to the process or letting myself believe he’s going to get irritated with me…especially when he keeps cleaning some of the same crap time after time. But he isn’t like that. He isn’t like that at all.

I was better after that. Or I hope I was, I know I was trying. And I’m going to work on that tendency in my nature to be so critical and impatient especially when I know my room was in a similar state earlier this week and I have the time to keep it neat. It’s just easier to project those frustrations with myself onto someone else. But it’s really me that needs the spring-cleaning. I have a lot of work to do…

One trashy pick up line...

"You look like someone who likes to take care of herself."

Really.

Let me set the scene.

Our trash pickup day is Tuesday. Kevin takes out the trash. Not a big deal who takes out the trash, just that he does it. But last week he forgot and then there was Easter weekend...lots of trash. Smelly trash. And this morning, also Tuesday, Kevin is in bed with an on-going cold and I didn't think about the trash until I hear the familiar beep of the truck rounding the cul-de-sac and passing us by. Crap. Week two of smelly trash just wasn't going to cut it. Now I hadn't had my shower as yet, [Hey- I have no life these days...] so I throw on some clothes and chase the guy down in my car to see if he'd circle around again, which he agrees to.

Anyway, I'm not exactly gorgeous to begin with...but first thing in the morning folks, and that diminishing but still present black scab on my lip, no make-up, no "support" if you know what I mean, and I'm racing to get the trash to the end of the driveway before he gets there. Well, no luck. He's standing there waiting for me and says "this is gonna cost ya". I thought he was just making a joke, but he hands me this pamphlet for "Juice Plus" and says, "You look like someone who likes to take care of herself." Really.

Note to self: Kill Kevin.

Bag Balm

Bag Balm: Dairy Assoc. ProductsDescription: For chapped conditions and superficial abrasions.Ingredients: 8-Hydroxy Quinoline Sulfate 0.3% in a Petrolatum Lanolin Base. This product contains no alcohol.Directions: Apply Bag Balm freely and massage gently with ointment twice daily. Massage thoroughly and allow ointment to remain on for full softening effect. In case of deep or puncture wounds, seek medical help. Pets: Apply Bag Balm liberally to the affected area. Cows: After each milking, apply thoroughly and allow coating to remain on surface. Thoroughly wash treated teats and udder with separate towels before each milking. To avoid contamination after each milking, bathe the udder with plenty of hot water, strip milk out, and dry skin.

My good friend Pam has two products she consistently recommends: Oxy Clean and Bag Balm. If it were up to her to rule the world these items would not only clean up the globe as we know it, but leave it "udderly" healed as well. I can't begin to count the times I have heard her say, "Did you use Oxy Clean?" or "I'm telling you, Bag Balm really works."

Well, I actually purchased a tin of Bag Balm at Wal-Mart over a year ago but seldom remember to use it, or perhaps stubbornly refuse to use it. You can find it in the first aid section and she simply swears by it. Ok.

Day One: I had this vein thing lasered off my lower lip on Thursday. It hurt like Hades- not at all like I remembered the same procedure a few years ago- but all in all it covered with lip gloss and I was on my way. Then came Friday.

Day Two: I woke up with this awful black scab on my lip that would not stop bleeding and it was puffy, painful and would not begin to cover with lip-gloss. Or makeup. I had used this antibiotic cream they gave me and it was not doing the trick. I stopped by the clinic and they told me to apply pressure (okay it hurts without the pressure...) and ice packs. So I go home and use an ice pack for the rest of the day. More oozing, more swelling, more gross black scab. Enough that this vain self decided to hide at home instead of going to the Good Friday service I was planning to attend. More cream and 8 hours of sleep.

Day Three: Ugh! Crusty blood on the lips and I'm not going anywhere. After all it was this same vanity that took me to the cosmetologist to begin with knowing insurance would code this as cosmetic or elective and I'd have to pay for it. We're talking black scab. Lovely. More ice, more cream, more hiding. But it's the day before Easter and I have to run some last minute errands so I venture into the world of fellow Easter Bunny ritualists trying my best to keep my head down and not speak to anyone. Until my friend Pam calls to catch up and I tell her of my laser experience. And you guessed it, she says, "You got any Bag Balm?" I almost laughed because I knew she would ask. I had actually gone through the process of thinking it myself before I went with the antibiotic cream. So I went home and began applying the balm.

It's just way difficult for me to use the stuff. It's actually got directions for applying it to irritated cow teats! They can put it in a nice tin and market it for people but it's for cows. It’s hard for me to even say let alone use. Especially on my mouth. But I did. And Sunday morning folks, day four, it was better. Not gone, but lots, lots better and this morning? Well day five the thing is much smaller and almost covers with gloss.

Now maybe it would have healed anyway and I guess I'll never know. But I think it was the bag balm, I really do. And I will never doubt Pam again on matters of this much importance. Teats or no teats, it has my vote from this day forward. Wonder if it reduces gravity…

Rejoice With Me!

An hour ago my dad called. He skipped the hello altogether and began with "rejoice with me!" While I'm smiling and expecting him to proceed with a lovely passage from Psalms or something, he says, "I have opened a double-yolked egg and my cup overfloweth!" Okay, I'm laughing now and realizing at the same time that I have his sense of humor. All these years, or most of the 45 going on 46 years, I have assumed my personality and humor were from my mom whose laugh still rings in my ears years after she died. I certainly have her passion for things- for romance, for collections, for all things beautiful and small, for family and hallmark moments. And I thought I had her sense of humor. But this random call from dad, well, that's me too. And it made me laugh. It made me tell him so. It made me call my sister and tell her. I knew I got his calves, his height, his teeth & his thankfully laid back personality, but I guess I also got his humor. I never really knew him to be funny and he is. I think maybe mom's all-out, laugh-out-loud personality reigned front and center most of the time, but he must have been funny too. I'm thinking that might have been part of what made her fall for him given her love of laughs. And it's nice to discover this part of him while I can still appreciate it. It's nice to have this sense of sharing something in common. It's nice he wanted to call me and share a quirky little moment of joy that fell unexpectedly into his skillet. It's oddly spiritual to me. I don't know. I'm still a bit irked he didn't indulge my fascination and appreciation for "The Gates" display of saffron curtains in Central Park or my temptation to drop everything & drive a day to experience it, but I'm okay with that. One can’t have everything and he is a male after all. But I am my father’s daughter, and today I understood that in a special way- even if my mom would have gone with me to see those curtains…

Fish Tank

I recently left the graces of my home congregation. Kevin mentioned during one of our many conversations about what that means for us as a family, that he feels a bit vulnerable outside the umbrella of "protection" of the Church. After the predictable confirmation that we are the church and we find our security of course in Christ and not in any specific congregation, his comments managed to stay with me. I understand his fear that I may have pissed God off by wading in to waters unknown and having the moxy to confront the powers that be in stead of opting for a more silent submissive type of route.I guess I worry about it too. It was unnatural to jump the tank knowing I need a bit of water to survive and not really knowing what's out there and how long it will take to find it again. Still, I jumped because the waters I had become so comfortable with weren't as healthy as I believed them once to be, and for the first time in my life I'm on the outside looking in andit's the oddest thing. I know people move all the time and experience the process of finding a church community they can connect with but for me, it is something I never expected to be doing and certainly something I am unprepared to deal with. It's like I've done something horrible. Only now do I understand more completely the intensity of the pressure my father felt when he married my protestant mother, and that of the many families who over the years fled their sacred roots in search of something more. I don't think I've ever judged someone for leaving our church, at least I hope not, and I hope it's simply my insecurity making me feel like they're thinking the worst of me. Still it feels funny to run into someone from the old tank at Wal-Mart or Fazoli's and have a normal conversation. And then there's the whole loyalty thing and trying to worship somewhere else. I don't know...as much as I tried to think it all through before there are feelings I'm discovering for the first time simply because of the territory. A lot of me wonders if I should have just stayed put but the part of me that feels alive and scared, and honestly a bit free thinks I may be surprised at how well it all turns out. As for the whole protection element I feel likeI was seeking His will through itall and His spirit dwells within me not within any walls we conjure up. I believe He jumped with me and I can live with that.