So Call me Crazy
My life is crazy. I teach fitness classes at five different facilities, and drive an hour (each way) for my daughter’s 5 hour gymnastics practice . . . every day. My husband works full-time swing shift and part-time as a Pastor. We home school my daughter, my son is in private school. Starting in December he will play on two different basketball teams, a soccer team, and participate in Lego Robotics. I own a 120 pound (and getting fatter by the day) Weimaraner who has no boundaries; I wake up every morning to my husband and the dog spooning with four paws firmly in my back inching me off the bed. There is always laundry to fold, dishwashers to empty, papers to grade, prescriptions to be called in, lunches to pack . . . I see great needs around me; people who need meals made, kids watched, a shoulder to cry on.
Adding to the insanity, is the fact that my entire family is kinda nuts. Just last week the vet suggested that the dog lose a little weight so my husband started exercising him by playing fetch . . . with a marshmallow gun. The dog then returned the kindness by throwing all of my daughter’s school work off the coffee table with one swoop of his paw, because my husband refused to share his clam chowder. Later, my son loudly read the inscription on the really cool cross my mother had bought him; “I am a catholic, please call a priest.” It seems that he has been wearing an emergency alert cross (and, no, we are not catholic). Yesterday (perhaps driven by my new-found Catholic guilt) I thought it was a good idea to buy him a three-foot long inflatable tentacle arm and a pencil slingshot. My daughter firmly disagrees. She did, however, think it was a good idea to weigh every honeycrisp apple at the grocery store last night until she found the one that was exactly one pound. And my stepdad, who watches my son every day after school, took my son on a rescue mission a few days ago when a woman got stuck in an elevator at his building. My son’s job: watch the woman’s face on the video screen and give the alert signal if he saw any signs of panic . . .
So I press in.
I take a deep breath and resolve that I will live for Today. I list the priorities and then leave the list at home. I hold on to what is most important and then lighten my grip. I make plans and expect detours.
Someone the other day questioned my chaos. “I am just not sure life is supposed to be like this,” he said with concern. I smiled. Thinking: “this is exactly how life is supposed to be.”
If things were simple, if I could simply coast, if I could get it all done, I would have no need for God. When it is messy, and overwhelming, and nothing but crazy; then I forge through to find what really matters.
Jesus walked the streets and the crowds thronged him. Talk about chaos and overwhelming circumstances. Everybody needed something from him. But one woman, pierced the crowd to touch the hem of His garment. She knew this was enough to heal her. Jesus stopped in the middle of the crowd, wondering who touched him. The disciples scoffed, “everyone is touching you,” they said. Yes, but one woman’s touch had meaning. It was a cry for help, a reach of faith, a grasp of desperation. Jesus stopped because He felt her reach out.
Things might be crazy, but they also make me reach out. How comforting it is to know that when I do, Jesus stops. One touch is enough, and His undivided attention is an extraordinary bonus.