Icee Headache

Today was one of those days.

I actually try to avoid blogging on days like these as I prefer not to leave a negative stain on the page like a muddy footprint on a just-waxed kitchen floor.

This day, though, was like having an freeze-headache and being forced to keep gulping a bucket-sized Icee on fast forward.

My frozen lips are dyed cherry red and I can’t feel my tongue.

Part of my dilemma is very Love-Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. My schedule is synchronized like a beam routine and demands similar precision in balance and timing. My days are metered in moments,”I have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.” A traffic detour, one extra red light  or a forgotten spelling list wreak Helter Skelter on the dominos, and I’m late. Running late when I am the only one consequenced does not get my panties in a bundle. When I run late during my work day, however, another child or family’s service is affected. I am constantly against the limits of the clock and my best and continually grasp the short hairs of both.

Then I get news that stretches me on the tippy-toes of my faith about two families in the middle of gritty, medical dramas. I believe God makes all things work together for His good, but I am often dumbfounded by my own limited and deeply human perspective. At ground level, these situations simply baffle me.

Next, one of the girls and I go another round on character issues, and I wonder how to support her in a way that will enable her to create the changes she genuinely desires in her own situation.

Tough session with a client makes me reconsider core tenants about esteem and healing. This is another dynamic where meaningful, measurable help may only be achieved though collaboration, and to say the client didn’t want to drink the water does not even begin to cover it.

Limits.

Lids.

Icee headache.

The Husband and I almost managed to get in a phone fight.

Phone fights are like relational cigarettes and oh, so much less hot than phone sex. I know they are bad for me, but I still occasionally light one up. Needless to say, my strategy to call and alert him I perceived a significant shortcoming in his execution of a parental function when he was stuck out-of-state at an obligatory, work dinner bore a conflicted result.

We pulled it back from the brink together, he got The Boy the necessary Math tutoring, and were able to have our first, and only real conversation of the day after 9:00 p.m.

We lit from topic to topic like fireflies dance across the night sky and filled our space together under common stars.

He asked about the blog.

For those of you that don’t know, I have experienced a bit of a slump lately.

The combination of time pressure and my desire to quality stamp content with authentic experience finds me short on both.

More short hairs.

Another Icee gulp.

The Husband asked me if I was in a blog desert.

I told him that I knew that there was sand, but that I do not wish to over generalize.

As I tucked my girl in tonight, I told my daughter that I think one of the reasons that God gives us a unit of tomorrows is to grow our Hope.

Today was an Icee-headache day, but I hope that tomorrow will drink like organic, green, jasmine tea well brewed by The Water of Life.

I did my best, it wasn’t much
I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah!

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah!