Pajamas and Tennis Shoes

So there I stood in my kitchen this morning: dressed in my white pajamas with the blue bears on them, my feet hastily shoved in my tennis shoes. In one hand I gripped the broom and in the other I gripped a can of RAID (unscented).

When I woke up this morning I was sad. Money problems really can push my depression button. Rent is due today. Since I’m broke, I ended up getting an advance on my upcoming house sitting gig. Yes, God did send my tax refund check to pay the most pressing bill and I am really thankful for that… but the stress of not having a stable income was worrying on me this morning like the weight of the world. Last night I’d opened my bible to Isaiah 40 and read about comfort to God’s people. Honestly? I didn’t really get it. But to be even more honest, I only read my bible last night because I felt guilty. After spending all of my time since getting home from work on my computer blogging, facebooking, and watching movies… I felt like I’d shoved God in a corner like some misfit toy. I only decided to pull him out when I was sleepy and it was time to bed. When will I learn that I can’t treat God like a rabbit’s foot? Keeping my bible around just for good luck.  Or worse, like a genie in a bottle? Rub a few pages together and God will give me what I want. As if.

I’m supposed to be in a relationship with him… and if this is how I treat my relationship with the God of the universe... exactly how much time am I going to put into my relationship with the man I eventually marry?? Any relationship takes time and effort. And I must say, I haven’t been putting in a whole lot of effort with God. Oh, I might talk about God and write about God… but if I don’t spend time with God what’s the point?? If I were married and I only talked to people about my husband or only blogged about my husband, but I never actually spent any time with him, he’d want to divorce me.

God is different though. He pursues us. Sure, he’s given us free will, so that if we don’t want to be in the relationship we are free to leave. If we don’t want to put any effort into the relationship, he won’t stop us. But he will always be there calling to us… and waiting. Last night he called out, “Isaiah 40″ and I read it. But because I’d put him last on my dance card, I was too sleepy to get the point. This morning when I woke up I was nearly in tears because my financial situation is really stressing me out. Sure, I was supposed to be getting paid soon, but the uncertainty and all the things I need to pay for were getting to me. I picked up my bible again and started reading Isaiah 40 and suddenly things that I hadn’t understood last night seemed really apparent this morning. Comfort from the Lord comes in moving aside all the stuff that’s in the way. For me it’s finances and worry. But in the past it used to be suicidal episodes and depression. I used to obsess over my jobs because they made me miserable. My life seemed to be painted on a black canvas with brilliant red swatches that looked like blood seeping through a jagged wound.

The verses also spoke of shouting God’s praises from the mountain tops. This blog might not be a mountain, but it’s my preferred place for shouting: “My life is SO different now. God changed it. Ever since the surgery things have been different and I do not doubt that God did it.” As I lay in my bed I thought of all the other things God had been changing or refashioning in my life and I was thankful. But comfort?? I felt no comfort this morning as I pulled my tired carcass out of bed. I don’t want to be worrying about the money and how I’m going to pay next month’s rent or how I’m going to get my car fixed before it dies on me. I don’t want to be worrying about any of the things that are stressing me out because I really do believe that worry accomplishes nothing. But knowing that and living that out are two different things.

With that thought in mind I walked into my other room (the kitchen/dinning room) to see most unwelcomed sight imaginable: a large centipede wriggling across my kitchen floor. Now, I didn’t get a ruler to measure that monster, but it had to be a good 8-10 inches and it was as wide as my index finger. Fear and panic collided. Those things bite. They are also really fast. But, surprisingly, my reaction was faster. I ran back to my bedroom, shoved my feet into my tennis shoes and grabbed the can of RAID! I didn’t want it getting close to me and then crawling across my feet plus I wanted to be ready to step on it if I had to. I grabbed the broom with shaking hands and tried to plan my assault. Centipedes don’t die easily and they can continue to move unless you cut them into pieces or smash them to bits. Neither of which was on my agenda for the morning. I have a “No Smash” policy that is still very much in effect. One would have thought that all the insecticide that I have pumped into this place would have been enough to deter such critters from scuttling across my doorstep, but evidently, this one didn’t get the memo.

I watched him for a few minutes trying to avoid the coral powder that I’d put under the counter. This wonderful stuff is supposed to kill ants. They walk through the powder and it works it’s way up through their feet cutting them to pieces from the inside out. Blood thirsty wench that I am, this really appeals to me. Given that centipedes have so very many feet… part of me wanted to be around to watch the death throes. He was moving about like a drunken sailor… and trying to climb the walls rather than walk on the floor, so maybe it was already cutting him to bits. I watched and waited until an opportune moment when he was back on the floor, but not in the coral powder. The minute that happened — WHAMMO! I opened up a can of wup — I mean RAID! – on him. And the death throes began. Upon reflection, maybe I didn’t want to watch that. I hate that. It started curling up and thrashing around. My hands were shaking so badly I almost couldn’t execute my next move: grabbing the nearby bucket and putting it over the dying critter. To make things really secure, I put a hammer on top of the bucket to make sure he couldn’t get out… although, I doubt I’d be able to move if somebody sprayed a half a can of RAID! on me.

And there it stays… and will stay… until I can get somebody willing to move the body. I still have not nerved myself up to be the Critter Coroner. I always get some kind soul to come haul away the remains. The interesting thing about this morning was that it totally got my mind off my worry and depression about my finances. Money was the LAST thing on my mind as I thought about how to kill that centipede. And I felt a tremendous sense of comfort in having handled the problem myself. In the past I just used to run to another room while somebody else would kill the centipede or spider or whatever else was creeping around in the room. Yet this morning, I’d put it under the bucket then stood not more than two feet away from it while I poured a bowl of  Raisin Bran. I couldn’t have done two months ago. With a dying centipede under the bucket, I would have been too afraid to be in the room with it for fear that it might get out. I guess, one might say that I’ve grown up a bit… matured even??

Then I come to wordpress to blog and pistolpete quotes a verse to me… and it was out of Isaiah 40:

But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.

I’d read the same verse last night and this morning. But it was only after looking it up in three different translations that a picture began to take shape for me: Trust in the Lord… hope in the Lord… wait on the Lord. No matter what happens with the job or the finances I want to be fully committed to the Lord and his will. I’m trusting that he’s going to give me the mental stability and whatever else I’m going to need to walk through the next few months as I wait on  his answers to my questions, concerns, and life challenges. And every time I turn to him in prayer because of said issues… I’m hoping in him. Not like a rabbit’s foot or a genie. My God cannot be compared to those things. He can’t be compared to anything. He is my God. The one who knew that only something extreme… like a centipede first thing in the morning, would get me out of my funk and make me appreciate the comfort that he does give. Unconventional, but if my God was predictable, he wouldn’t be worthy of my awe and my praise.