Today started off, off, and has continued that way.
The husband stayed home sick. The kids were informed last night right before bed that the announcement by dad that there would be no school today was really just an April Fool’s trick. This produced tears in one childand I decided we probably overdid the April Fool’s stuff this year even though we all do like a good practical joke. This morning I decided to take the boys out for a breakfast sandwich as a peace offering for yesterday’s shenanigans. A bacon-Gouda sandwich can make lots of things better.
When I got home, the husband was still passed out sick and so I set about daily tasks. Stepping for a cup from the cupboard I plummeted through the floor in the place where there was (yesterday) a vent cover. After a brief assessment- nothings broken, laceration butterfly-fixable- I realized I may have just pushed my leg through not only the vent but also the ceiling to the bedroom below my kitchen floor. What had begun last night, before the husband’s sickness hit him, as a simple install of floor vents with one minor glitch in needing to adjust the size of the vent in the kitchen, was now going to be an enormous home-repair project.
I’m very thankful for my man’s handyman-ness. He can do many home repair and construction projects very well. He can also be the least happy person to be around during such repairs. I knew I had the dreaded task of informing my stuffy-head, sore-throat, headache, just-crawling-out-of-bed husband that there was a hole through the floor… through the HVAC system, because I had stepped into the vent space. Not my favorite thing to do.
He was gracious, “Not your fault…” followed by sighs and pacing outside, followed by hours of banging, pulling, a couple fist poundings on the floor, some choice words and lots of time online doing wife-damaged-the-HVAC research. I offered to help, but, yeah, “No thanks…”
So, trying to salvage what was left of my hope for making it a good day, I did a workout outside, some laundry, made lunch and checked in one more time to make sure there was nothing I could do. Still nothing.
As I was sitting down to eat lunch I noticed my momma goat, Darla, outside flopping all over the ground with her tongue sticking out. (I’m not making this up). I just about choked on my fish taco and ran outside yelling at my husband to call the vet. He, being the calm detective that he is, sauntered to the patio and said, “She’s probably got something stuck in her mouth she’ll be fine.” I, on the other hand, was in CODE BLUE mode as I approached my 2 week postpartum doe with her grey (should be pink) tongue hanging out of her mouth. I picked her up with strength I didn’t think I had and the force of my grab must have acted like a Heimlich Maneuver because she coughed a couple times, shook her head, licked her chops and nibbled at her grain like nothing ever happened.
I’m worn out by now as I sit in the Starbucks parking lot processing the day’s events waiting to pick up my kiddos from school. We’ll make a trip to Barnes and Noble so the kids can browse at books while I try to return to what I began doing this morning: chewing my cud. I should clarify: meditating on God’s word.
My world is being parable-ized by my goats. This morning, before all the stuff hit the fan, or the floor vent as it were, I was outside in the cool air feeding my goats, talking to the little kids and watching as my buck was processing the morning’s feed. You can tell they are chewing their cud (regurgitating what’s in their rumen) because their cheeks suddenly puff out a bit and their jaw starts grinding away at their mouthful.
The word for meditating in the Bible has a similar meaning. It means to chew on God’s word, to mull it over. Think about it. Toss it around. Think about it some more. Pray about it. Recite it. Gather application from it. Glean more of the vista God is from it. Learn more of Christ.
It hit me this morning that I haven’t been doing that much lately. I’m sort of in a rehab place spiritually. I’m doing exercises necessary to regain some strength so I can do some real heavy lifting but I’ve been going light on the repetition. I need to take a verse or two and chew on it awhile.
Here’s one I heard today that caught my attention:
Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! -Psalm 126:5
I’ve read it before, but as I brought it for more digestion today I tasted something new.
Sowing in tears is inevitable. We Christians are on a road of sanctification. We are being formed into the image of Christ. Did I think the process of being formed into the image of Christ was going to be chocolate and roses? Did I think I was greater than the Master who suffered to purchase the grace that is making me more like Him?
Grumpy husbands, broken HVAC systems, a goat-choking scare… just a minor sanding in the daily grind of shaping me to be Christlike.
I’m gonna keep chewing on this one.