Getting dressed is a fine idea.
Except when it’s not because you needn’t have bothered.
I put on a dark blue shirt. A form-fitting cotton thing with a v-neck. I love the way it frames my favorite necklace; soapstone looking material carved into a large, flat pendant I wear on a thin black cord. When the only light was from the far window, I looked good in the mirror, all things considered. I tucked the shirt into my jeans, which I pulled up over the best part of the muffin. But I don’t have the core strength to maintain the posture necessary to pull off fitted cotton tops, so I buttoned over it a long-sleeved yellow shirt flecked with tiny blue flowers. And over that: A faded, dark blue cardigan.
I wasn’t trying to hide. I just like blue.
And sometimes orange and purple, but rarely to wear.
Dressed, I went back into my living room (a converted bedroom at my parents’ house). It was 8 am. I’d been up since 7:20. Getting dressed was my only planned activity for the day. Well, besides showering. I showered. I didn’t brush my teeth, though. I’m almost out of toothpaste and when I tried using a Target gift card on my smart phone the other day to buy more, the app wouldn’t load, so I left without buying anything.
It’s 9:27 pm. I can’t go to bed yet or I’ll wake up even earlier tomorrow than I did today, and tomorrow has even fewer plans.
I “work” with my dad during the day. I help him write reports for his business. I make calls. I fill out paperwork. I create systems. I connect with people. We finished a job last week. Early mornings and a world still covered with frost. We watched our breath and worked with pressure washers and Hudson sprayers and ladders and boom lifts. We had coffee breaks. We warmed caulk inside our coats. One time, we spit. But it was just for show because mom had come to visit with leftover pumpkin bars she made for the school where she is a learning facilitator.
And now that job is over, and there is nothing new on its way in. Emails have been sent, past connections connectedly connected, but nothing has turned into anything yet, so I make plans like “Get up. Get dressed. Set new Zuma Blitz high score.”
It’s nice, “working” like this with my dad. But it doesn’t pay. By which I mean: At all. It’s such a long story, and it involves The Economy, so I won’t get into it. All I know is: I live rent free, direction free, goal free, income free. I float.
I am a fish, so I guess this is normal.
Except for the getting dressed part.
And maybe the tooth brushing.
Mom just came in for a visit. We’re driving to grandma’s tomorrow. No rivers. No woods. I’m making a tuna casserole. It’s my only casserole.
[[Paragraph redacted, because anonymity rarely lasts.]]
We will listen to music and talk and laugh and love each other. This is the day the Lord has made. The day [[when redacted happens]] will be His day, too.
Float float float.
I ask God for wisdom. Every time I talk with Him, it comes up. I’ve soured myself for discipline, though, so I have a hard time sitting down and focusing on the 1,383 pages of chain referenced wisdom on my nightstand.
Joyce Meyer just tweeted “One of the best gifts we can give ourselves is time alone with God.”
So. God. This is not our call. This is not our timing. So.
“But you will not leave in haste or go in flight; for the Lord will go before you, the God of Israel will be your rear guard.” (Is. 52: 12)
I read that tonight. Am I allowed to apply it here? Does that work? He is in this place, and He is in the place where we will go. Wherever that will be. Reading that- it’s like honey filling in every pore in my toast.
Last night I read this:
“Though the mountains be shaken and the hills removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the Lord who has compassion on you.” (Is. 54:10)
Honey filling every pore and dripping over the edges, running over my fingers so no matter what I do I cannot keep it from spreading everywhere, touching everything. This truth is sweet. This Lord has compassion on me. Though the economy be shaken and the house removed, His unfailing love for me will not be shaken nor his covenant of peace be removed.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Is. 55: 8-9)
Yesterday Joyce tweeted “As believers, we are supposed to believe. Otherwise we’d be called achievers. We must first learn how to “be” instead of “do.”
I believe. Because I want to. And because I just do. And because even when I have doubts I find it is still God I am telling them to.
“But the man who makes me his refuge will inherit the land and possess my holy mountain.” (Is. 57:13b)
God: You are great. You are enormous and great and wise. You created. You create. You are compassionate and just. I love you. Do you love me? (Circle one: Yes | No) Will you be my refuge? You have guided me to your Word. Will you hold me in it and teach me through it and use it to show me how to believe anew every day, and how to love you more, and how to love others more? Even when they are a bit awful?
I’ve stayed up long enough. I can sleep now, and get up at 7, and shower, and dress again because tomorrow my grandma will see that I’ve done so. I will brush my teeth. I will make a casserole. I will make it to Isaiah 60.
But I will not shave my legs, because that shit is just ridiculous.