So, last night I am sitting outside in the fairly comfortable 98* weather at 8:00pm, and hear this awful flapping sound. It was not the typical chirping and scurrying of delightful creatures who have found our backyard their permanent residence. Nor was it the sound of our neighbor’s yard sprinklers which we hear fairly regularly despite the regulated twice a week watering restriction. I didn’t hear the splashing of children in the neighbor’s pool, nor was the typical and customary sound of little people giggling and yelling with childhood wonderment to be heard. I found myself in the very uncomfortable position of hearing slapping and flapping from two despicable creatures in the form of birds “making out”. Imagine the horror.
As many may know, birds are my least favorite of God’s creatures. They are dirty, disgusting, invasive, ill-mannered, infect-ridden, bug infested, flying rodents who spread disease and filth to all in their path. I carry great bitterness towards these animals as they were responsible for my miserable junior high years of ill-health from the disease I contracted from inhaling the spores from their fecal matter. It just gets more disgusting as you read, doesn’t it? Hystoplasmosis is a common illness that often goes undetected and untreated. Unfortunately, my lungs bear the scar of its presence in my body and my hospital stays in the effort to have the disease diagnosed are highlights of my junior high years. Yes, please imagine going to your 7th grade friends and telling them you got a disease from breathing in bird poop. That goes over really well. They thought I was really cool and people couldn’t wait to sit by me during lunch time. Of course, I could have not shared why I wasn’t at school, but then my sister and brothers would have been the lucky story tellers and they could have given it even more delightful visuals than I just shared.
Clearly, birds are gross. Them “making out” and perpetuating their existence in my very back yard was alarming and most unfortunate. Fortunately, this unpleasant occurrence pulled me out of my pathetic mind set of missing my family and friends and startled me back to the reality that there are far greater things to be disturbed by, such us the procreation of nasty creatures such as birds. Why would I give so much attention to the heart ache of disconnect from those I love when I can take my pent up frustration and bitterness and direct it where it rightfully deserves.
Isn’t that how it works. Even though we are given ample and justified heart break to contend with, we avoid and deflect so we can maintain the semblance of balance and the cover of control. I have found myself over the past week feeling the exterior presentation of control cracking and crumbling at the most inopportune times. For instance, in the pool restroom, I offered to hold the door shut for a little four year old girl who was trying to use the potty, but whose mom’s hands were filled with a 15-20 pound ball of energy in the form of a 1 year old. I was glad to hold the door so she could step out with the baby. There I was, holding the door, and chatting with a friend, when it hit me. I have been avoiding my sister, who confronted me angerly about my lack of priorities and my disregard for her feelings when it came to spending time with her family. Of course, this awareness had nothing to do with the bathroom, or the 4 year old using it, but, since I had already gone down the path of disgust and crudity, I thought I would carry on the visual. (Thanks for indulging me.)
I had been discussing an unrelated situation where the same sentiments were being felt by someone else. In the moment of awareness, I thought, my sister may very well be right. I have not got my priorities straight. I do enjoy my friends and I do spend my time with them sometimes at the expense of my extended family. Our move to Texas also further alienated me from my friends who had become like family due to the proximity and the presence in our life. Not because I don’t already have a great family by birth right, but because I have never lived close enough to honor that relationship through a community of love and service to one another on a daily basis. When my car would break down, or I couldn’t pick up a child at school due to a work conflict, my neighbors would be the family I called for help. Likewise, when my sister or brother’s children were sick, I didn’t get to deliver a meal or relieve them of child care duties so they could take a shower or go to the store. I wasn’t able to support them the way I could my friends; not for lack of desire, but out of circumstance.
So, here I am, holding the stall door shut, and tears welled up in my eyes. Not only that, I literally had to cry. Not just a little silent cry, but the body shaking, loud sobbing’ish kind of cry. Can you imagine what that 4 year old little girl must have been thinking? Oh my word. CRAZY LADY has me locked in the potty. She is unstable and she is not going to let me out. Of course, I am sitting there thinking, “Oh my goodness, the Holy Spirit is meeting me right here in the pool’s bathroom. How great is this? I wish I had fixed my hair and put on some makeup for this unexpected visit with the Most High God.” I really didn’t know what was happening. It was as if a light bulb went off in my head. I am not sure if the crying was out of relief because I had been praying for awareness to be shown on the situation with my sister. Or if I was crying because, once the light bulb went off I thought the light would blind me and I immediately needed it to be turned off. I didn’t want to see what the light was showing me because I had come up with some pretty good arguments in support of my position with my sister.
It wasn’t long before I remembered the child in the stall, and looked into the eyes of my friend and began laughing about the hilarity of the moment. I had clued her into what I was thinking, and then said, “I think I have been convicted right here and now. Even as I stand here, chatting with my friend, my family is sitting out in the car waiting for me to get in so we can get home and have some family time. How’s that for my priorities? I can’t even put my immediate family first.” Once the little one was safely reunited with the mother who had walked into see me standing at the stall door with my tear streaked face, I collected my things and walked out to the car. I was also struck by how crying is such a highlighter of discomfort. You see someone who has been crying and you immediately change your tone and temperament to offer sympathy and or to avoid having to get too close to the obviously emotionally raw moment that just erupted and may not quite have passed. So my husband adjusted his tone, cocked his head, and sweetly said, “Are you ok?”
“Of course I am ok. Why do you ask? Is it because my nose is bright red, my makeup is streaking down my face and the rest of my complexion is blotchy? I am great. No worries. Sorry for making you wait.” I know he would have given me a good talking to about my awareness being slightly skewed as we all have responsibilities to love and care for one another, and I can’t possibly be fully responsible for the decline in my relationship with my sister. I know he is right. It was just awareness that I had resisted taking seriously.
The tears have continued to be close to the surface. There is so much filtering and sifting through emotions that I can’t quite make out what is happening. The tears feel good though. In as strange and slightly uncomfortable way, it is comforting to feel and respond to the variety of emotions coming into my awareness. I don’t want to avoid the voice of God speaking to my heart. Nor do I want to take for granted the very good gifts of distraction and levity that reminds me of how amazing it is to live and love freely. Each time God takes me to a place of turning the lights down and sitting with me as I face the darkness of circumstances both created and injected into my life; He also offers enough light to see His love to move through the darkness. Sometimes that light is in the beams through the eyes of 4 year olds in bathroom stalls, the laughter with a friend over a meal at Olive Garden or over a game of Slug Bug which leaves bruises the size of apples (which I seriously can’t help, I am just that strong). Sometimes the light is seen through the exchange of stories about children and the challenges that we face in this world of competition and chaos. Often times, the light is seen in a text or a fb note, or a words with friend beep that comes just when I need to be reminded to get out of my head and back into the moment. And, yes, I guess God leads me out of the darkened places in my soul through the awful flapping and smacking of his most disgusting of creatures. He can walk beside me as I glimpse at the darkness of my past, but then he gently leads me back into the light of His goodness, even giving me reminders of His sense of humor and comical nature, through those nasty, ill-mannered fowl.
Praying you see glimpses of his light even in the midst of whatever darkness you may be experiencing. Don’t avoid going through; instead, enjoy the flickering and flashes that He has generously planned for you.
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