Let me guess, you’re a housewife.

tumblr_m71urbHAfe1qbhkvgo1_1280I do not take vacations without my family and grown men do not ask me for my phone number.

Well, except for that one time and that was a fluke. I swear.

The airport staff at DFW forgot about me and left me sitting at the terminal in a wheelchair with a broken ankle. Not that I knew yet that it was broken, but still.  I am certain that if a stranger had not taken pity on me, I’d still be waiting at gate 32 C.

All I want at this point is to find my seat, order an adult beverage and pretend I am still on my cruise with my girlfriends.

 The window seat is open, I take it and the cabin steward takes my crutches.

So what if I’m supposed to be in the middle, I want the window. Surely whomever has the window seat will see my plight, take pity on me and not make me move.

Turns out he too is tired, wants to find his seat, and order his own adult beverage and we recognize each other immediately.

I, the stubborn redhead sitting in his seat and he, the tall stranger standing in the aisle announcing confidently, “I know you are going to move over, right?”

He is right. I move. Broken ankle and all.  Granted not without a sassy “Oh sure, make the cripple move.” We like each other instantly right up until 22C arrives.

He spends most of the flight talking to her. Over me I might add leaving me to feel like odd woman out. Yes that bugged me. Don’t judge. I was tired, and feeling well… middle aged.

I don’t blame him. She is young, cute, probably single and in town for a short business trip. Watching him work is very entertaining to say the least.

I’ll be honest, it takes everything I have not to pop off with a “Shoulda let me keep the window seat.” but my drink arrives and I have bigger things to figure out like explaining my broken ankle to my husband.

As we get ready to make our descent to Tulsa, Mr. window-seat remembers that I am in the row and says to me, “So let me guess, you’re a housewife.”

OUCH!

He strikes out with 22C and that’s the best he’s got for me?

I know, I know. I’m married. I shouldn’t care but crimony the dude could at least TRY!

Housewife.

pffffft.

I already know – because it’s hard not to eaves drop when you are stuck in the middle – that Mr. window-seat’s name is Tim*, he is a physician’s assistant / surgeon who is just returning from taking care of his old sick mother in Atlanta and he had two brother’s who have died leaving her alone with just him to care for her…

blah blah blah gag me.

I mean she got the “I’m a rich doctor who loves his mother.” pickup, and I get “housewife.” like I’m some kind of consolation prize or something.

At 40 something years old, this cuts me to the quick. He’s not exactly a Spring chicken himself mind you. I have zero interest in this man and yet there is no way I’m letting housewife go unchallenged. Even if it is true.

“As a matter of fact, I’m a stand up comic.”

So there Mr Bigshot!

What happens next is a blur.

Within three minutes okay maybe 60 seconds, he is wanting to know where I do comedy in Tulsa and asks for my phone number so that I can let him know when my next gig is.

and…

I give him my number.

He even sends me a text when we land so that he doesn’t lose it. Oh boy. I am so in trouble.

It has been at least 20 years since a man has asked for my phone number. I can’t remember how to make one up. This is going to take some serious “splaining” as Ricky Ricardo would say.

I’ve taken two vacations ever in my entire life with my girlfriends and I come home from the second one with a broken ankle and now some guy I just met on the plane has my phone number.

This should be interesting.

I do quick introductions in luggage. Mr window-seat waits with my wheelchair while my husband gets the car and we never see each other again.

Who says life after kids is boring?

*Name changed to protect his identity, not that I believe he gave me his real name in the first place. I’m not even sure that he’s a surgeon.  I did get the text he sent me on the plane asking for my next gig and I sent him the link to the Comedy Parlor where I hope to be performing soon and left it at that. I had surgery shortly after my trip and I’m still in a boot. It’s going to be a long time before I get to do comedy again.

I am also fairly certain that it is going to be a LOOONG time before I get a weekend pass to go on a vacay with my girlfriends again as well.

Have you ever played small? Cut it out.

Making myself nothing to suit others is not humility; it’s ego and lack of trust. When I make myself small to “help” someone else feel like they are important what I’m really communicating is I think I’m too big for you to handle and you are too weak to see my greatness. Real relationships require real honesty. If I cannot allow myself to be fully me when we’re together, am I really allowing the other person to be all they can be? Of course not.

Making myself nothing is just another mask for fear. Fear is nothing more than False Evidence Appearing Real. What are we really afraid of when we do that? Rejection? Failure? Pride?

We get caught up in the lie that we are being too prideful if we boast (talk) about our accomplishments. Really? Isn’t playing small prideful as well? Yes, we can be very prideful in our ability to make ourselves small — I see it all the time in church. We get hung up on thinking that playing small pleases God. No it does not.

God did not create us to be small nor did He create us to fit in. We are created in HIS likeness in order to make a difference in this world. We cannot make a difference if we are playing down to nothing.

Making myself nothing so that other people can feel like everything is about manipulation and control. It’s about people pleasing and being liked.

Let go of the control.

Be who you were created to be and make a difference.

You can do it.

I believe in you.

How will you be remembered?

A great man of God died this year and my last living memory of him is the day he called me a whore. People closest to him tell me that he loved me a great deal, but I wouldn’t know. He had too much pride to apologize, and I had too much pride to let him see me cry. The sin of pride kept us from being reconciled. My heart hurts, not because of the conversations we did have, but because of the ones we didn’t.

My college room-mate died this summer. My last living memory of her was a fight we had 20 years ago this August. I don’t even remember what the fight was about, only that she passed without my ever being able to tell her how sorry I was and how much I loved her. I have to live with that.

I’ve listened to many pastors speak about balancing law and gospel because they don’t want the last living words someone hears about God to be words of condemnation. They want people to also know about his love and his grace. Relationships are no different. We never know what our last words to someone are going to be.

The last words I use when one of my family is walking out the door, or I’m on the phone are always “I love you.” because I just don’t know. Life doesn’t come with a guarantee for another chance.

If you knew that the very words you are speaking this moment were the last words someone ever heard you say, what words would you use?

In the Name of Love: U2 and Me

U2 Rocks, that’s all I can say. 

There is very little that frustrates and hurts my heart more than piety  sorry wrong word, I mean Piosity. In others of course, never myself. (She says very much tongue in cheek)  And yet, I’m called not to rebuke or lower myself to match it, I’m called to love — It’s really hard to remember that some days and so I am reminded that I too am a sinner saved by grace and I can allow myself to be met by God exactly where I am. Humbled. Alone. Hurting for myself and for those the pious wound. Prideful and being arrogant about my own (seeming) lack of piety which is a sin as well. Ah yes, pride. Will it ever be removed? will I ever stop feeling the need to correct those who look for perfection in a fallen world when truthfully that need really stems from my own heart and sinful pride? Because when I’m there? I believe I’m a better Christian than the pious. Will it ever end, this cycle of spiritual death and sword fighting?

Only when Jesus returns. Until then, I stumble, I repent, arise, and try again tomorrow.

1 Corinthians 13

Love

 1If I speak in the tongues[a] of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames,[b] but have not love, I gain nothing.

 4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

 8Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. 11When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. 12Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

 13And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love