Obsessing

‘Twas the week after Christmas and all through the cabin, not a child could be heard...after 45 days of family visits, we would have the house to ourselves.  Not that we don't love family visits.  We do.  But my introverted, OCD self was stretched to the max. Peace and quiet. Finally. Wait...What’s that?  My phone is ringing.  Dad’s going to the ER. I’m needed in Knoxville right away.  To pick up my handicapped brother. To come stay with us. For however long is needed.  Get dressed.  Hug remaining daughter and grandkids. Drive drive drive.  McDonald’s for lunch. Then the ER. Critical care unit. Spend time with parents. Pray. Run errands, calm down my brother.  Arby’s for dinner. Back to hospital, then the house for an overnight stay before I go back home, brother in tow.   

As I sit in the dark on my bed (couch) for the night, so many thoughts and feelings are jumbled up in my head and my heart. I feel like I’ll never relax. My shoulders are hunched up above my ears, my neck is a knotted up mess, and I haven’t unfurrowed my brow all day. I think, “wow God has a crazy sense of humor...this happens now?! Just when I’m already exhausted? Right before my daughter and family go back to India? Really Lord?” And when my stepmom tells me she’s spoken to my estranged sisters (see previous numerous posts if you are not sure about why we’re estranged), some very unpleasant and un-Christlike thoughts pop into my head. The conversation in my screwed up brain goes something like this:

“My sisters called? Really? Like they care?”

“Uh yeah, they’re his daughters too.” 
“Yikes but what if they come to Knoxville!  What if I see them!?”

“You’ll just have to deal with it”

“But they’re horrible!  It’ll be so awkward and painful”

“Suck it up”

“I don’t want to see them”

“You’ll be gone by then anyway”

“I’m so friggin tired.”

“Then go to sleep”

“I’m trying to trust God...”

“Are you now?  Really?”

“Yes, it’s just I’m worried about seeing my ...”

“Isn’t this about Dad?”

And that’s when it hits me. Stripped down to the bare bones, I see my selfishness in all its ugly, raw, hideousness. Here I am, focusing on MY tiredness, MY life, MY feelings, MY anxiety over seeing siblings, when I should be focusing on others and especially how God is going to be glorified in all this. Now, granted, that selfish rumination is not the only thought occupying my brain, nor is it the primary concern,   But it is there, pulsing and oozing like a big, gross alien blob.  Disgusting.  I pick it up and look at it in all its putridness. Hold it up to Christ’s standards.  Not only is it not even close—it blots out Christ’s image. I gasp and throw it down, and it just sits there. Waiting for me to pick it back up. To acknowledge it. Stroke it.  Feed it.  Give it sustenance and life. 

NO!!! Get away from me! You are NOT of Christ.  And I am His.  

The thing slithers away, and is gone. I breathe a huge sigh of relief. And consciously relax my shoulders and rotate my neck. Take a Motrin. And close my eyes and pray.