Last weekend I was violently awakened by the pounding on my bedroom door and my middle son screaming, “Dad, the bathroom downstairs is flooding!” I did not descend the stairs in a loving, cheerful manner. It probably resembled a rampaging herd of buffalo. I was barking commands like a Marine drill sergeant, back before the military made them take emotional training courses. It was a war zone when I reached the bathroom. Luckily – which probably had everything to do with God and/or my guardian angel and nothing to do with luck – I reached the bathroom before the icky water drained into the forced-air vent on the floor. I grabbed the hand towels and barked orders for more resources. Needless to say, it was not fun.
After the flood waters receded, and the floor had been mopped with clean water, I began
The “cleaned” plunger and holder.
to put things back where they belonged. That’s when I noticed how dirty the plunger holder had become. An odd duality played in my head: 1) guilt for having yelled and used language that would make some sailors proud and 2) the question ‘When was the last time had this plunger and holder had been cleaned?’ Sadly, that question was followed by, ‘Have I ever cleaned the plunger and holder?’ I was mortified by the realization that there were things in my house needing cleaning that had never been cleaned. I turned on the sink to the hottest water possible and grabbed for the strongest cleanser I had.
At some point, while standing at the sink, scrubbing the…ick, wishing I hadn’t let a string of expletives fly while I flew down the stairs, IT hit me: **THINGS** happen (think Forrest Gump). I got the giggles. In the middle of the giggles, I was hit with an epiphany: God loves me, even when I cuss, even when parts of my heart have not been cleaned in a long time, even when I’m coated in feculence… like the plunger and its holder. I don’t know about you, but I struggle with taking a close look at my heart, under God’s guiding light, in order to root out those places that need cleaning. You all probably know that the plunger in your bathroom needs to be cleaned ever so often. Me…I do now; but more importantly, God and I had a long chat, with His light on my heart, a little brighter than before. I’m not perfect, neither am I really knowledgeable about house cleaning, but I’m getting better…and a little cleaner day by day…inside and out.
Our first date began at Noon and ended at half past midnight! At each possible ending, it was clear, neither of us wanted the date to end.
We started at Applebee’s restaurant. The conversation was going well. We talked about everything, but we were constantly interrupted. We had one of those perky waitresses, who, when she found out we were on a first date, stopped by the table every six minutes to check on us. We timed it. After two hours, the waitress asked us to pay the bill because she was working a split-shift and needed to close out with management.
“I’m very sorry,” she said. “I don’t usually rush customers. This is just a unique situation. You can stay as long as you want.”
I paid the bill and we continued to talk. We talked about childhood, we talked about hobbies and interests, and we talked about the future – about goals, and careers, and kids. At one point in the conversation, I took a drink while Amy said something funny. Somehow, the liquid which usually quenched my thirst was now rocketing out my nose. And it didn’t stop. As I tried to stem the flow, Amy sat there giggling. She didn’t run in terror.
“I’m sorry,” I finally squeaked.
“For showing me you’re human?” Amy replied with a giant grin. Then she changed the subject and the conversation resumed. At 5:30, a familiar voice interrupted us.
“You’re still here?!?” our waitress announced. Amy’s eyes grew large. I shivered.
“We’re just leaving,” I managed as we both bolted for the front door.
“Now where?” Amy asked as we buckled into the car.
“I could take you home if you wish.”
“No, I don’t want to go home,” Amy said with a grin, “Let’s go see a movie.”
While waiting to purchase tickets, Amy’s cell phone rang. She looked at the display, cringed, and whispered an apology.
“Hi, Jen. What’s up?…No, maybe next weekend….Will you be at church tomorrow?…”
Realizing Amy had previously set up this call to get out of a “messy date”, I stepped back to give her some space, grinning from ear to ear. She wanted to spend more time with me.
During the movie when the bedroom scene began, I started counting popcorn kernels on the floor. Half-way to 100, Amy nudged me.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Just tell me when the scene’s over,” I muttered. Amy told me much later that she knew at that moment.
When we exited the theater, we couldn’t remember where I’d parked. We looked everywhere.
“Found it,” I announced with chagrin.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, then followed my pointing finger.
“I left the headlights on,” I answered. Why? It had been daylight when we parked. I had no explanation. Amy called her best friend for a jump-start.
“You’re supposed to stage this at a dead end where we could make out and get to know each other,” Amy quipped. Instantly I was flush with embarrassment.
“Um…I didn’t do this on purpose,” I managed, glad for the cover of night.
“I’m just kidding,” Amy replied. There was an awkward pause.
“Um…” I began, “I’ve never kissed a girl before. I…uh…wanted to wait until the pastor said ‘you may kiss the bride.'”
Amy was at a loss for words.
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I just thought you should know in case this relationship continues.” I tried to sound matter-of-fact. Amy’s look was a mix of appreciation and fear. Recognizing the struggle within Amy, I continued. “I’m not looking for someone who’s made the same decision. I just knew I had to make that decision when I was in middle school.”
Shortly after the awkward conversation, Temple arrived with her trusty fiance in tow. As Jason and I connected the two batteries, Amy took Temple a safe distance away.
“How’s it going?” Temple asked, loud enough for me to hear.
“Fine,” Amy replied through clenched teeth. Temple took the hint and began to whisper.
Once my car started, we parted ways.
“Now where?” Amy asked. It was after 8:00 p.m.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“Yes, and I know the perfect place,” she answered and began directing me to an incredible Italian restaurant.
Half-way through our meal, Amy pushed her plate away.
“Do you want the rest of mine?” she asked. I was very hungry, having only eaten lunch that day.
“Thanks,” I answered, before accepting her plate. Amy later told me I had passed her test.
We talked for the rest of the night.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we closed half-an-hour ago,” our waiter stated apologetically. I glanced sheepishly around the room. We were the only patrons in the restaurant. I paid the bill and we headed for the car.
“Now where?” We drove around for an hour before I dropped Amy off at home.
“How are you going to top that date?” a very close friend asked me when I described the date. “Are you going to wet yourself?” I laughed, and still chuckle today when thinking about it. There were a few mishaps that might send most girls running, but Amy didn’t run. She saw a real human, not a fake front, and began falling in love with me on that date. I’d snort iced tea again if it’d bring Amy back for even just a laugh. Good grief.
Two nights ago, I waxed poetic about the “increasingly irritating insomniac incubus” within the smoke detectors in my house. I knew we were dealing with Spiritual Warfare, but thought, “Good grief, why give the devil the spotlight?” I focussed more on God’s intervention and flexed my alliterative skills, trying to show the humor.
Every year, leading in to camp season, spiritual warfare is center stage. Most years I’m prepared, or at least quick to recognize and change tactics. This year, it “started late” – or rather l noticed it late. The incubus within the smoke detectors got my FULL attention. Shortly after posting last, the sucubi entered the fray: two major issues exploded within my home – the kind that hit you so hard out of nowhere, it takes a beat to recover. Yesterday was challenging just getting to camp. It was almost 7p.m. when I finally arrived! I’m usually here at 3p.m. in full setup mode. The setup surprisingly was still finished with time to spare.
Today was the day for half our coaches and deans to go back to the church, collect our campers and return for a packed evening. Everything was going without a hitch until the buses didn’t show. After much prayer and a scramble of phone calls, four buses appeared (albeit two hours late), but we only needed three. Our incredible coaches and activity directors had kept our charges engaged. We finally loaded the buses and hit the road to much applause.
Six miles from camp, one of the now three buses broke down. Having emptied the bus onto the other two, we got back on the road heading for camp. The kids were nearly three hours late, but God…
I have to say, that phrase is quickly becoming my favorite: but God!
… but God had a plan, and things shot into motion. All lost luggage was found, all missing toothbrushes were replaced, and all staff was pumped to see what God’s going to do! I haven’t seen the devil work this hard trying to destroy camp, but I’m not amazed that God is always prepared. The incubi and succubi are shaken at the power of God. They’re terrified about God’s plan for these 4th and 5th graders. I’m excited! God is here, at work mightily, and changing hearts already. The devil be damned!
It was just after Midnight this morning when everything went awry. There was a chirping, every 30 seconds. Micah and Isaiah had just come home from watching Jurassic World in 3D. Micah was laughing and telling me how he tortured his brother during the “almost scary” parts of the movie. Isaiah is apparently more fun to watch in an intense movie like this than me. I wasn’t sure how to take that information, but I chuckled and began heading for bed. We all groaned when we heard the chirping. We all knew what it meant.
For some reason, our family is plagued by the Smoke Detector Demons. It is always in the middle of the night when those stupid things go awry. I tasked Micah with changing the battery and set off to bed. Unfortunately, the monster machine with an attitude was the one doubling as a carbon monoxide detector! Thirty seconds after the battery was changed, the demonic detonator of discord began its din again. We pushed buttons. Eh! Eh! We reset the battery. Eh! EH! EH! We even unplugged it from the ceiling wiring. That apparently was the last straw! We’d muted the maniacal mayhem happening every 30 seconds by inadvertently awaking all five siblings of the beast. Armageddon was fastly approaching. I’m sure the neighbors could hear it by now. Needless to say, my sleeping angel was no longer sleeping. Autism does not like unexpected noises, especially loud ones in the middle of the night.
“Turn that off, Dad!” he yelled.
By sheer luck — more probably the hand of God — Micah and I were able to silence the siren. It was nearing 12:30 a.m.
Eh! Eh! EH! We hung our heads in defeat. Another 5 minutes we discovered the problem: — as noted in size 6 font on the wall side of the dastardly device — the faulty Carbon Monoxide detector had to be “replaced immediately!” I cringed as I called the after-hours-emergency-tenant line for the rental company. After 10 minutes, it was clear that the end of the world was nigh! They could not fix the machine until Home Depot opened. We would have to endure the increasingly irritating insomniac incubus within the machine, every 30 seconds…until HOME DEPOT OPENED!
It was nearly 2:30 a.m. before my numb brain was able to override the tintinnabulum and slip into a fitful, nearly awake, state of sleep. I woke for work at 6:10 a.m. Not ready to be manning a kettle corn trailer at the Hillsboro Saturday Market, but alas I trudged on anyway.
Work was painfully slow; my brain was wading through the sludge of over-due sleep requirements. I went to play practice after work and found out my son needed sandals for the camp dramas in only 2 days. My bed seemed to be slipping farther and farther away from me. When I opened the door to my house shortly after 5 p.m., the irritant was still sounding off every 30 seconds. Because of weekend issues, the handyman could not get a key from the office to simply come into my home while I was away and fix the problem. I passed out from sheer exhaustion at 5:40 p.m. Micah arrived home shortly after and was able to direct the handyman when he finally arrived around 6:00 p.m. I woke to a pounding, dehydration headache at 8:00 p.m. The silence was blissful! I ate two microwavable, frozen burritos while updating you, my readers. I’m heading back to bed in minutes. Hopefully, the near gallon of water I’ve been chugging, along with the Tylenol, will alleviate my still throbbing head while I “uneventfully” slip back into the coma of sleep.
Thank God I have an incredible son who took charge of the situation when he was off work tonight! He even took his brothers to Red Robin for dinner! I haven’t heard such blessed silence in years! Hopefully the sleep will be blessed!
Good Grief?!? 