Preoccupation

Ever feel distracted? Like something's amiss but you can't place just what it is?

That was me today. The first thing that clued me in was when I was standing at the counter in Wendy's and tried to swipe somebody else's order. I caught myself before my hand was actually IN the bag so thankfully tragedy was averted. We got our food (the food that was REALLY ours) and sat down. We ate and I managed to get a few coherent sentences out to my friend, Carrie, in spite of about a gazillion interruptions: "MOM, he hit me!" "Mommy, can I have a milkshake? A swirly chocolate one?" "Mama, guess what?" "I'm done, Mom, can I have a milkshake now?" To which I answered a gazillion Mom-answers, like "Stopit!" "Get up off the floor, please!" "Please sit down. All the way." "I need you to eat two more pieces of chicken."

After such a peaceful dining experience, I took Levi to the bathroom. We walked in, did our thing, washed our hands, and on the way out I noticed something strange. There was a urinal on the wall! I hadn't seen it on my way in. For a split second, I thought "Wow, I've never seen a urinal in a women's restroom before." Then reality hit. I WASN'T in the women's restroom!!! THAT was my second clue that I may be a bit preoccupied. Thanks be to God we were in New Orleans East, which is still not very heavily populated, and so we were the only people in the bathroom throughout our bathroom experience.

We laughed our heads off, the kids, Carrie and me.

But on the way home, I started thinking. (Dangerous, I know.) Thinking how funny it is that all the bumbling I had done on the outside seems to reflect how I feel inside. Or maybe all the outward goofiness has to do with what's going on inside me. Maybe the staring into space, forgetfulness, and general preoccupation are parallelling my inner attempt to right myself. To figure out who I am and where I fit these days. Guess I've been thinking about that a lot the last few days. Perhaps a wierd holiday like Mother's Day brought on the out-of-place feelings. Or perhaps it's the change I've observed in how others see me and how they treat me sometimes, the unsure way they approach relationships with me. (And you thought I didn't notice...) Or maybe it's a change inside. A change in how I view myself.

So now I'm alone in my room. Just me and Jesus. And here's the thing... He doesn't care how many dumb mistakes I make. He doesn't care who rejects me or befriends me, or why. He doesn't care how many times I swing back and forth between adolescent insecurity and mature grown up confidence. And some way, He will sort all this out in me. He will show me who I am.


And hopefully keep me out of the boys bathroom.