Do Not Disturb

I may need a Do Not Disturb sign to hang over my face.

I live in constant disruption.

The world expects me to function at a higher level of cognizance.  I have the academic accolades, career potential, and “a way with words.” Still, this morning I got into a fight with our two-year-old son over his wet diaper. He insisted it was poopy, I insisted it was just wet. He demanded I change him, I argued he could either A. go potty if he didn’t like being wet or B. Pay me $0.32 every time he wanted a dry diaper because he tinkled a little or toots, which he also believes requires a diaper change.  The conversation went from bad to worse when he came out of his room naked, covered in poop with my wallet, also covered in poop. And handed me my debit card and said, “Can I  buy a diaper?”

I only except cash.

Alas, my mind is continually busy.  Much to think about, much to ponder, much.

My phone alerts non-stop, Facebook pages, podcast interviews, and banking debacles.  Speaking of, after the poop was cleaned up this morning, I received a phone call from our bank reporting suspicious activity. I made a call to the company who had removed $400 from our checking account. I had never heard of them, I had never received any products from them, and I wanted them to refund the money and never touch my account… ever again. 

The woman, “Janice” from Budapest, informed me she would refund half of my funds and I could keep the product.

[Tweet “my mind is continually busy. Much to think about, much to ponder, much.”]

I lost it… poor Janice.

I have no product. I have never heard of said product. I want my money back… NOW.

45 minutes later, my account is restored.

45 minutes I can never get back, I miss those minutes.

My husband is working from home today, and my beloved mommy helper, Bobbi was due to arrive shortly. So, I tied my hair in a top knot, slid on my rubber boots, and bolted out the back door. I needed fresh air, in spite of the abundant rain this weekend, I knew I wouldn’t stay on the manicured roads of our 640-acre ranch.  It is now cool enough I needn’t worry about snakes. The beaten path was not what I craved, I required the rough terrain of the untouched.  The spots where no one could find me. Where I knew I wouldn’t be disturbed.

I wandered and kicked rocks, pulled on shrubs, smelled Juniper berries, and took pictures. My iPhone was on “Do Not Disturb.” There were no kids, blog posts, bank alerts, or sticky floors. And then I remembered:

The election is tomorrow.

I have to vote.

Do I take all the kids with me?

Do I get a sitter?

Do I wait until Justin gets home?

And then…

The candidates.

Ugh.

Still…

Civic duty.

My faith is in God.

Tears, Commander in Chief…

Of my baby boy, who is considering a career in the military.

Who is so sweet… so kind.

Images of flag covered coffins flashed.

Further still – health insurance.

The unborn.

The amendments… our rights, their rights… the children’s rights.

My stomach lurched, and I stopped and looked around.  I had no idea where I had wandered. I had no clue where I was. But I was guaranteed two things. 1. I couldn’t go any further without being gravely injured, and 2. I had been terribly disturbed.

All alone, in the middle of nowhere, without the benefit of chatter, news reports,  rhetoric reasoning toddlers, or outsourced negotiators of products I’d never encountered,  I was soaked in mud, sweat, and tears… disturbed. 

I had recently listened to a speaker, Brenda Blaze. I sat down near a cliff and listened to her again.  I was disturbed, without rest. All alone, yet bothered to the point of panic, soaked in my own worries, and oppressed by my turbulent fears.

Disturbed.

I closed my eyes and breathed in damp morning air and let the truth she spoke of wash over me.

“Do Not Disturb,” I decided I  would chant this the moment my mind began to wander to campaign speeches, appointments to be made, kept, or any of the myriad of stresses waiting for me. Foster care paperwork, new insurance for our adopted son, a new diet, car repairs, potty training, what’s for dinner, whose pants are too short, a grocery list,  homeschooling, college tuition, the Navy recruiter….

Do Not Disturb.

I could run 100 miles and not escape the most maddening problem because I take it with me wherever I go.

My own mind. 

I shed some more tears before braving the muddy mess I had carelessly wandered through.  My only help of uninterruptedness was to pray for a new level of clarity.  A mental “Do Not Disturb” sign.  I prayed out loud, “Grace, abundant grace, I walk in Your favor, I wholeheartedly accept the gift of my inheritance, peace.”

I made it back to the house. My lungs and limbs were tired. I turned on the hose and rinsed off my boots.

I felt confident in the peace that keeps me from being disturbed.

[Tweet ““Grace, abundant grace, I walk in Your favor, I wholeheartedly accept the gift of my inheritance, peace.””]

I opened the door and was met by my 13-year-old daughter, “Mom, I need two cages, two gerbils, and your help writing my hypothesis for the homeschool science fair!” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw flashes of naked little boys. My ears were flooded with the cries of our foster daughter. Behind me, I heard the sound of Bobbi’s car pulling up. The dogs barked, the microwave beeped, my husband inquired, “Can we go vote together tomorrow?”  And then, “Have you defrosted anything for dinner?” Fox News blared my impending doom from upstairs. My phone, having been switched back on, alerted 40 different alerts.

“Grace, abundant grace, I walk in Your favor, I wholeheartedly accept the gift of my inheritance, peace.”

Do not disturb, fully present, fully occupied, still fully at rest as the daughter of the Most High.

May your floors be sticky and your calling ordained. Love, Jami

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27

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