I read.  If I could get paid to read, I’m pretty sure I’d have more money than you.  I’m fascinated most by people’s stories.  I don’t have to agree with them.  I am just intrigued by the tapestry.

Currently, I’m reading Kisses From Katie by Katie Davis.  She is a 20 year old girl who walks away from her “normal American Tennessee life” to live in Uganda.  She ends up adopting several children during her first year and lives in a constant state of dependence on God.  Her biggest surprise is how much she could love these children, many of  whom she cannot even communicate with.  She learns, that is, what it is to be a mother.  And it got me to thinking.

I remember, with my first child, literally thinking….”today I parented perfectly.”  That was my goal.  To be perfect.  I was terminally ill with that goal.  I did not lose my temper.  I kept him from acquiring any scratches or bruises.  I kept “bad people, bad influences” away from him.   I had a perfectly organized house.  I gave my child nutritious meals and clean clothes.  I bathed him.  I hugged and kissed him.  I read to him.  I just generally had it going on.  Of course, he was 3 months old.  But still.

24 years and six kids later, I look back and I wonder. In all those years of growing those little people, those “greenhouse” years, if you will,  one of my fears (there’s that word again), one of my highest priorities, was that no one would taint them, that is, “mess up” my agenda for them.  I wanted, for them, joy and safety and as little disappointment as possible.  I wanted chocolate cookies to pass out to them after their naps in the afternoon.  I wanted Bible stories and church picnics.  I wanted healthy well baby checkups.  These were my children.  My children.  I would and did protect them at all costs.  I would die for them.

Back to Katie.  She is describing this life she chose for herself in Uganda.  The filth and poverty are overwhelming.  The needs are beyond what most of us even think of needing.  Not only does she adopt several children but she continually opens up her home to other villagers.  One day she becomes aware of children living in a home that is completely consumed with scabies.  She takes them to the doctor and is made aware of the process for healing them and decides to have them live with her during that process, since their biological family is unable to help them.  Scabies, folks, is incredibly contagious.  My own daughter from China had it when we first adopted her.  Left untreated can cause serious illness.   This young woman worried that bringing contagious children into her own home with her own children might not be the “responsible” thing to do. That is a reasonable thing for a loving mother to worry about.

But then….God.  He reminded her that He’d sent His own Son;  that “whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake…”  And so she took those scabies ridden children in and…..this is the point….she knew that, at the end of the day, the God who loved her children even more than she did would protect them.  He would either keep them free from illness OR….they would get scabies and God would see them through it.  Did you catch that?  I had to read it twice.  Either outcome…..was still God for them.

How many choices had I made in raising my own children that seemed like the loving, responsible thing to do….but lacked  the heart of the Protector of us all?

Psalm 62:7…..”He is my strong protector.  He is my shelter.”

I had a list to accomplish.  One of them was a stop at the bank.  I sat across from him discussing my options.  Banks intimidate me.  Mainly because I feel like I’ve just stumbled into the men’s cigar lounge.  I mean, friends, I don’t have any money to bank with.  Not bank, as in, things involving words like hedge and rollovers and strategies and stock options.  Is that even a banking term, that last one?  I’m about as lost in a bank world as I am in a car garage.  “Would you like to have your car rolled over, mam?”  I don’t know.  Let’s take it to the bank and hedge it in first.  I do things like make a deposit and feel especially snappy that my paycheck is direct deposit.  Look at me banking!

I’ve reached that point in life where I never thought I’d be…..as old as I am.

This morning I woke up early….for no other reason than I was excited to clean my bathroom. My son recently took time on his day off to come and paint my bathroom ceiling, .which could only be described as prison shower gross….not that I’ve seen one.  I’m just saying.  That clean white slate of a ceiling inspired me to think…”Wonder if the rest of the bathroom could look that good?”.  And thus, my plan was hatched and my Saturday morning agenda was set.  I researched “how to get soap scum off the shower door” on the internet and climbed into the shower with nothing but a bowl of white vinegar, a sponge and the suit I was wearing on my first birthday.  And I sang as I worked.

Last night, I drove into the Wal-Mart parking lot with my 13 year old daughter to get lavender scented bleach.  At the entrance, we saw a fundraiser group serving up hamburgers and hot dogs and bought ourselves a “combo”.  We took them and sat on a bench together and ate that health food with gusto.  We smelled candles until we staggered from the scents and bought a People magazine to do the crossword puzzle.   It was a Friday night.  And I enjoyed it.  And it was good.

This age thing is a chameleon that slips up on you.   Things shift.  Your eyesight starts to change, and yet you see some things clearer.  You have less answers but a larger perspective.  You don’t necessarily seek out excitement but you still have dreams and ideas that excite you.  You take joy in the simple things but aren’t simple minded.  Your feet hurt more at the end of the day but you savor the steps you took.  You look back more often, just for a glimpse of what was, and in the process you sometimes see things you’d have done differently if you’d had a clue.

I recently described to my older daughter the feeling I had as I metamorphisized; I know it’s not a word, but it’s my blog and I like it; of silently, almost imperceptibly having stepped across an invisible chasm at some point.  I turn around to those younger than I and I want to reach out and grab them by their youthful jowls and say…”Hey!  Pay attention!  Live life!  Live it well!  Gusto it up!  Learn to laugh at yourself; to forgive yourself so you can forgive others; to not stand as long in front of a mirror, unless you’re drawing pictures in the steam,  but rather look into the face of your Father, to read more, sing stupid songs all loud and obnoxious, do something for someone shy and quiet who feels invisible, loose the “cool” meter……it changes faster than you’ll be able to keep up with anyway.

And most of all, don’t discount those older than you who you mistakenly assume you are smarter than or hipper than or are tempted to think obsolete just for being around longer.  We may be standing naked in the shower with a bowl full of vinegar and a sponge but we got something to say!