Allergies

     Do you ever have that cereal box, you know, you push the bag down and fold the flaps together and let go and it pops open? So you push in the sides of the box, fold it again and poof, it pops open again. I'm sitting at the table with a box of Kleenex. I'm done eating and there's this growing pile of used tissue next to me. I dry my eyes, blow my nose a couple times, then rest my head in my hands. Like that box of cereal I feel defeated. Not by life. Not work or laundry or another rainy day. Nope. I'm defeated by something invisible. Some seasonal something that reaches out from places unknown and turns me into a blubbering mess of tissue and sneezing.

     C.S. Lewis said if you don't feel like doing something do it anyways and after doing it a bit you'll start feeling it. If you dont feel like worship just sing anyways. If you dont feel happy start smiling anyways. He says after a bit your actions will influence your mood. Well allergies use this principle in reverse. I feel just fine but my eyes wont stop tearing up. It doesnt take long and i feel like going to a quiet private space and bawling my head off. Let it all out. But there's nothing to let out. My allergies are lying to me.

     I have a customer job waiting in the shop. Breakfast still needs to be put away. The cereal box just sits there taunting me. Tissue pile still growing. There's plenty of stuff that needs to be done. Here I am still paralyzed by these invisible hooligans, well that and typing this out on my phone. Gotta go. Gotta get moving. Ugh. Just ugh.

A work in progress

     I'm polishing a pair of bike rims. They are for a bike that will be sold to fund a car project. I have to take them apart and put back together one spoke at a time. You'd think that might be the hard part but it's definitely the polishing. Basically polishing is sanding with a really fine substance until the surface being polished is a smooth as can be. Any imperfection will ruin the finish. Bike rims are already flat so piece if cake, right? These gave a grained finish, kinda like the grooves on a record but much smaller. And they take forever.

     I'm so close to being done. Each little imperfection takes so long to remove so I stand there patiently going back and forth and back and forth. My first thought today was, are you using this to prepare me for something God? If so, I don't want it. Anything that is this hard and takes this long, anything that I hate doing and I want to quit over and over, anything that you'd use this to prepare me for would be infinitely harder than what I'm doing now. Um, no thanks.

     The last person to live at our house was, I was gonna say Taniesha, but I guess it was D. If you've been to our house you know it is on the small side. We've had someone live in the shop for a while. Chris's parents for a year and a half,  half in camper, and half parked in front of tv. My dad lived in trailer out back for too long. T at least had a room. We've had people crash on the couch for various amounts of time. I hated it. Every single time was miserable. This is my space, my place, my sanctuary. My tv. One shared bathroom. I've hated every single time my space was invaded, but I've continued to offer it up. We have said no a few times. But yet most times we have sacrificed our comfort for others. God always builds on the things in our lives so what will come next?

     I'm still polishing. Back and forth, back and forth, will this little bugger ever polish out so I can go to the next? Then I realize this rim is me and God is the one looking at the imperfection wondering, how long will you hold on to this Jethro? I'd really like to move onto bigger and better things with you but you just won't let go.

     When we were in the youth group there was this girl M. She was about 13 or so when we met. I don't know how or why but somehow God connects people in an unexplainable way. Chris and I are connected to her. She may not feel that toward us and that's ok but she will always have a special place in our hearts. Shes all grown up now, husband and kids i think, but if the phone rang and she was on the other end we would not hesitate to be there for her. That's got to be the Father heart of God. It certainly isn't me.

     45 years now God has been polishing on me and I'm guessing I look about like the rusty trucks in my back yard. I see the potential though. I look at each of those trucks and I see something special.