This tire had unearthed something else. I don’t get angry over a tire (be it twice in one month after purchasing brand new tires!) Something deeper was eating at me and for the life of me I couldn’t figure it out. And every little nuance of my day (the empty gas gauge that was at that very moment staring back at me through the steering wheel, the dead cell phone because of the corrupt phone charger cord, the pressure of decisions in something we thought was behind us, the 4 hours of sleep, the vet appointments, disappointment in a friendship, barely escaping snapping at Ron 20 minutes earlier) was bringing it to head. I was acutely aware I needed a soul cleansing yell at the top of my lungs alone in my car in the tire store parking lot to circumvent a repeat of this awful moment captured here -The Laundry Room Floor.
You’ve been there, I know you have. It’s the moment when you need to take action alone by yourself so that you can gather your wits back together to go on with the day’s tasks (picking up the toddler’s spilled lunch in the floor, sopping off the wet paint on the carpet, attending the meeting that follows the one you just suffered through, walking back into the cubical farm to finish out a day after giving that patient bad news). I absolutely needed that moment to clear my head and restore sanity back into the delightful Sally I had left behind the night before. So with my head down on the wheel in the dark parking lot I started to regroup…..until I heard the knock on the window and glanced up to see a confused station attendant looking in. And how in the world could I then not bust out laughing? After convincing him that I was ok, we got the task underhand and an hour or so later with a blog post scribed, I was back on my way to work (via the cell phone charger purchase and the gas station refuel). Sanity back in tow and rationale thoughts back in my repertoire, I can clearly see again that God is still the God of women who bang their hands/heads on steering wheels. His promises are true despite my inability to claim them some days.
II Timothy 4:17 - But the Lord stood at my side and gave me strength, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed...And I was delivered from the lion's mouth.
Hearing those words recently and them coming to mind in this moment reminded me of all the promises when finding yourself in circumstance. He is the God of any and all of my situations, no matter how trivial or how overwhelming. And maybe through me and my circumstance, he will change a life. I simply have to be his vessel for whatever purpose he wants to purpose it. Even a flat tire. On an inopportune day. After 4 hours of sleep. When you have an awesome interaction with the attendant in the store at zero dark thirty when she is obviously happy to be at work and beyond helpful at this ridiculous hour when all you want to do is crawl into a hole.
So I am refocused and back on stride. I am not thinking of my circumstance but now focused on the two families you guys have been helping me pray over. One has a surgical follow-up appointment early this week with hopes of getting good news. Go ahead dive in on that Prayer Ship with me. The other, I hope to see later this week when I drop off food. Prayers that their week is restored with blessings and healing. And now I add to your list a third and fourth. The third is entering prophylactic mastectomy on Wednesday. She’s feeling every single thing you feel the week of mastectomy. Emotions are high and the fear of the unknown is in full force. And the fourth is a new cancer diagnosis. She has been a gem to my family (especially to my mom) as I have navigated my past 3 years, so I am hoping the same for her in return. There is so much happening around me these days and I am grateful for people who partner up in prayer for people they don’t even know. Thank you!
Totally shifting gears, I do want to mention a hysterical moment from this past week and prior to this tire mishap the original reason for my next post. I don’t even know if my re-telling will even remotely begin to do the moment any justice. But it started with me in stirrups. (It’s not every day you get to tell a story that starts in stirrups, huh?) Yep, in stirrups. And not the fun can’t-wait-to-get-to-the-campfire-horse-riding-calf-roping kind of stirrups, but the other kind. The girly kind. “The seriously, it’s time to do this again???” kind. The OB/GYN kind. And it’s the moment when you wish your stirrups were instead... the other kind.
The paper gown was as delightful as always. The room temperature was as frigid as always. The lights above as florescent as always. And the eagerness to be done was as eager as always. I had just finished recapping my vacation plans of the summer past (cause what else do you talk about to pass the time) and then she says “so are you happy with your new breasts?” What??? Did you just ask me “was the beach trip awesome?” I am sure that is what you just asked me. “Huh? Well, ummmm. Honestly that is a loaded question. Do you have an hour to spare?” She had the most sincere of intents with asking about the elephant in the room as we had just reviewed my surgical history to update her records. What I wanted to say was “Do you have a few minutes to read a blog post of mine? Because I don’t think I can do the response justice in current state.” Doesn’t she realize her reading a summary with me nowhere around would be way easier than me regurgitating the concept of having a new hand (see previous post here It's not YOUR hand) while sitting here on her lovely BBQ Restaurant quality paper tablecloth covered examining table with my feet in the air? And you thought talking about summer vacation was an awkward topic for the venue. I was so taken back. Not because it wasn't a fair question, but rather most likely because I was scantly clad in the middle of the dread of the dread and thinking about anything but my boob. It 100% caught me off-guard. And it took me forever to recover the fumble and pick up the ball to get back into my sprint toward the end zone. I was paralyzed by the question and didn't know how to get the topic back on track to the "safe" topics of the stirrups. Three years post mastectomy and these boobs still know how to catch me off guard.
“I mean, I guess so. They are just different.”
I spared her the detail of the new air bubble I had recently discovered that totally freaks me out when I lie in bed at night to read and then see it move across the boob traversing ever so slowly from left to right. My new David Letterman (now someone else) worthy “stupid human trick”. We all have one.
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