Down The Rabbit Hole

We are one month, post relocation, and I have to say that I am fairly proud of us.  What boxes remain are minimal and mostly housed in the garage.  There is a box in my bedroom that could be emptied in all of fifteen minutes.  That is, if I actually dedicated said fifteen minutes to that particular activity.  In dedicating said fifteen minutes to that particular activity, one might assume that I actually care.  Well, that's what you get for assuming because frankly, I don't care!  I mean, I do...but when unpacking boxes is all a body did for a solid week, a body gets TI-RET (which is YankeeBelle-ish for "beyond exhausted")of unpacking boxes.  That box in my room is not critical to my daily life and isn't visible to anyone who comes to visit...except when they take the tour of the house.  Of course, they are too stunned by how lovely the house is and how much we've gotten done in such a small amount of time, that they graciously excuse that random box.  I digress...forgive me.

All in all, I think we are doing well.  As "settled" as our house looks, our minds and spirits are still very much in a state of transition.  Personally, this state of flux is emotionally exhausting.  The past seems to be on a collision course with the present.  Once or twice, I've found myself en route to our old house!  It's like a perfect storm of deja vu and Memory Lane.  I feel like Alice and I keep looking for cats with big smiles and time conscious bunny rabbits!   Does that make any sense?  I'm sorry if that confuses you...welcome to my world!  I've been struggling with my attitude and sense of perspective.  At some point in my life, maybe I'll be enough of a mature adult that I'll finally get my attitude and perspective in's a lovely thought and dreams are free.  To be perfectly honest, that's why I haven't written anything in the last little bit.  I'm not exactly sure I know how to put this into words without revealing the nasty little troll who lives inside of me.  We've always traded in honesty and reality around here, so I have to honor that.  Perhaps a bit of soul purging is just what the doctor ordered.  Here goes....

I think I'm a snob.  I'm fairly certain that I am.  And coming from where I've come from, I have no right to be a snob. Seriously, folks...there were weeks that we washed the dishes with shampoo because there was no dish soap and then in turnabout, there were weeks we used dish soap to wash our hair!  Some of you are laughing...I know you are!  If I concentrate hard enough, I can almost hear you.  If snobbery hasn't taken hold, then how else do you explain my gut reactions to some of the things around me?  Case in point:  I pulled into the grossery (remember...gross amount of money that is grossly out of proportion to the piddley amount of food it buys) store, last week.  It was WINDY and COLD.  (I realize that some of you reading this have been taken captive by a winter that is nearly Biblical in it's severity.  I do not mean to diminish your suffering.  Sending you big, ol', warm "Bless your hearts!") Standing in the store's entrance was a grown her bathrobe and what very well may have been her pajamas, if going by color alone.  Not sure about the pj's but I am certain she was wearing her robe as a coat. Instead of being filled with compassion and the goodness of Jesus, my inner troll took over and within the confines of Freebie, proceeded to rant. It went something like this:  "Oh, forever more! Seriously!!  A bathrobe?!  Have you lost your mind? "  What it should have been was, "God love her!!!  I'm so thankful she has that robe to keep her warm!  I wonder if she is getting grosseries for her mother?  I wonder if I can help?" 

Did she come to the store in her robe because that's all she had?  Does the child sitting next to mine at the school's lunch table gobble his food because he hasn't had anything to eat since yesterday's lunch...or is it because he hasn't been taught better?  Does the dirty, smelly man at StuffMart have a safe place to bathe or does he just not care about personal cleanliness?  Being the keen observer of human behavior that I am, I do wonder about such things.  Is it hurt and desperation or is it apathy and lack of self respect?  Can it be a combination?  Has common sense gone the way of VHS and 8-tracks?  There was NOTHING upper crust about my raising but I know that my mama would have walked barefoot over a bed of cut glass before she would have gone to the store in her bathrobe!  Knowing where I came from should make me feel compassionate and empathetic and it does.  I always give to the bell ringers with the red kettles because they helped us when we were kids.  I participate in canned food drives that help the local food banks for that same reason.  At the same time, I also feel a bit guilty.  That's hard to explain.  I know how we struggle and it breaks my heart to see that same desperation I knew as a kid.  I want to make it go away but I can't.  Then there's the sense of indignation that joins the party and makes things really interesting.  It bothers me when I see a grubby child walk into a store with a mama who has paid top dollar for her manicure and hair do...she spent the time and money on herself, but couldn't be bothered to wash her little one's face and hands?  I'll just leave it there...certainly, you can fill in the blanks.

I don't want to be a snob.  Not when it comes to the sufferings and plight of my fellow human beings.  About mayonnaise versus that stuff that wishes it could be mayonnaise....yes.  I'm a JFG girl, all the way and then Dukes when I can't find the JFG.  What was I saying?  Oh, yes...I don't want to become so conditioned by the relative ease and abundant blessing of my life that I forget where I came from.  Why folks come to the store in their robes and pajamas probably isn't as important as me noticing that they do and when I notice such things, I need to take the time to be grateful for all that I "it took an 18-wheeler to move my household belongings" ALL I have.  I need to take captive the selfish, judgmental thoughts and be quicker with a prayer of protection and mercy....I need to be open to being that vehicle of God's mercy.

Real life people...weirder than any drug trip you could imagine!