Foot in Mouth Disease

I couldn’t sleep at all last night. Kathy and I talked until about midnight then I tossed and turned until about 1:30 slept for a couple hours then tossed and turned until it was pretty much time for me to get up for work. I don’t know why, there wasn’t a full moon, I hadn’t had an espresso before I went to bed, nor did I take any Sudafed, I just couldn’t sleep. So my day didn’t start out very well, but that wasn’t the worst part of the start of my day. Now my pride needed some stroking because although I didn’t sleep I deserve to have a good night sleep (yeah right) and in the process of trying to drum up the sympathy from Kathy I said, “I stayed awake for while after you stopped talking” and as soon as I said it I wanted it back. Whatever happened to “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs”? Words, unlike a cup of coffee can’t be taken back. What I was thinking in my head was that Kathy was so tired last night that she fell asleep in the middle of a thought and so she just “stopped talking”. But she can’t read my mind and had no idea what I was really saying she just knows what I said that I didn’t value her enough to want to listen to her and it was a dagger into her spirit. Now I immediately apologized and while that may remove the dagger, it doesn’t heal the wound. The dagger may be removed but the result, the consequence of it is still there, the hurt, the shame are still there. Being burdened by the weight of my sin, knowing that I hurt her, made my day start worse than not sleeping well, not having any coffee, or the worse kind of bad traffic, yet Kathy is the best thing that God could have ever given me. Just before I walked out the door, I gave her a kiss, and she held on to me and hugged me in such an intimate, caring, compassionate, grace filled, forgiving embrace that my burden melted away and my love for her grew even more. Now I don’t know if the wound is healed, only time will tell. I just know that Christ’s grace overflows from my wife and I desperately don’t want to wound her again.

Quick Fix

Last night we received some bad news; my father-in-law needs to have surgery again. He had surgery at the beginning of February and it has not healed and the mesh they used to seal his wound is infected so they need to replace it. The surgery is not that complicated but his health is. He has a tendency to get blood clots after he has surgery which can be very deadly. He has survived 2, which is a miracle and we don’t want to test it again. Kathy called me at work and I came directly home. I could have told her to “trust the Lord”, “have faith”, “God is the Great Physician”, or “God has a purpose” but that is not what was needed. She needed my shoulder; she needed my ear; she needed my arms to hold her. It is always easy to offer up a cliché and brush off a problem as fixed and in our fast paced society, a quick fix, a band-aid is what we feel is the optimal solution. We have so many crusty, dirty, torn band-aids on burdens that we have band-aids to hold band-aids on. Sometimes, the best kind of healing is exposure, to air it out. Last night, I didn’t “fix” the problem, I simply let Kathy it air out.

Saw dust

I always find it fascinating watching people interact. Today I watched as two individuals spared back and forth, speaking of the other person in cryptic yet cutting and biting remarks wanting to let everyone know how they feel about the other person without coming out and boldly proclaiming it; condescending arrogance from one, defensive attack from the other. My heart broke when with each comment both individuals looked at me seeking affirmation to the hurtful encrypted message they were sending. I wonder how much Christ’s heart breaks when we pray for the speck to be removed from our brother’s eye, blind to what we have in our own eye. I would like to say that grace was given and grace was received but neither heart listened to His message

On the run

Last night I went for a jog in my neighborhood. I had my ipod blasting in my ears as I was enjoying the first real cool breeze in south Texas in several months. About 2/3’s of the way through I saw it rounding the corner going as slow as it could without being considered parked, playing it’s music louder than my ipod. Yep you guessed I saw the ice cream truck. Push ups, ice cream sandwiches, nutter butter’s all in the back of that truck. Then the real scene happened, a boy no more than 13 began crossing the street. In his arms he carried a baby somewhere between 6-8 months old, no pants, shoes or socks, a bunched up t-shirt that at one time was white and a sagging diaper that would make any plumber jealous. Close on his heals two other kids one about 3 the other about 6 with excitement on their faces not paying any kind of attention to crossing the street. The oldest boy was doing his best to make sure they crossed safely to get to the ice cream truck and I a question went through my head, why was a 13 year old parenting? Who is there for that guy? Here he has all kinds of responsibility running around his ankles but what about him? Who can he be free with, who can he lean on, who can he dream with and be encouraged by, who cares about him? And I kept running.