We have a pretty solid policy around here about our door. We let the dogs do the talking for us. That's why we have them, after all. When there's a knock on our door, if we don't recognize the car (or the delivery company, since E has been living with us and ordering copious goods from online retailers), we just don't open the door. There have been exceptions to this policy, of course. It's not an iron-clad rule, after all. There have been the occasional Mormon or LDS couple (always in pairs, you know--it's in the gospels!) who have made it past our door. I've been out watering my plants and find myself holding out my hand, not to take "The Watchman," but to keep some earnest young or old person dressed in fashions long out of date, from trying to explain the Bible to me. "You'll probably have better luck with someone else," I tell them. That tends to slow them slightly, but doesn't stop them. And in such moments the teenage boy that lurks within me (you know, the one that is always ready for a pissing contest) shows up. Unfortunately. They start spouting scripture to prove their point, and I just can't resist. You'd think I could/would/should, but I don't. The moment that His words are whipped out in some distorted form, my brain begins to blow. Really. Then all those memory verses I stuffed into that brain pour out--as if I might possibly convert them. Then either the missionaries scurry off (these are the young ones) or change the subject--once an older couple started talking about our flagstone patio and before long, we discovered that they'd been long-time neighbors to my family's summer place on Whidbey Island.
Most of the time, however, we simply DON'T answer the dang door. We don't buy stuff from traveling salesmen (or from the ones who call on the phone...especially now that we've disconnected our landline!). We just don't. I mean, it just makes sense, right?
But today. Today I was opening my door to go get the mail (which I then forgot to do) when a man was about to knock on it. And by the time the man drove off, I was the proud owner of 2 cases of chicken and seafood, courtesy of Vietnam Vets, had probably overpaid, and certainly had ticked off my very-difficult-to-tick-off husband. It was a stellar moment, let me tell you. Hours later, I still feel sick about it (though the Caribbean cob was actually very tasty). I mean, I cannot remember Beve EVER hanging up on me before. Sigh. And he was right to. It was a pressure situation that I bowed to, and I know better. I really know better.
But we do have a year's worth of seafood and chicken, if you're in the area.
Just earlier today as I was sitting in traffic, I was wondering what fills the place in people's brains that God fills in mine. Is that space just like static on a radio, or is it filled with garbage? Of course, I actually know the answer. I know that people fill themselves with every kind of thing they can think of to take their minds off the fact that there's a space where God should be. A space they don't even recognize as belonging to Him. But even in me, where He dwells, sometimes I make bonehead decisions, do the dumbest of things, and just plain live with that static playing in my head. I do. Today is one large example, but every day there are little ones. But as I was thinking about all those drivers of all those cars and all that static where God should be within each of them, where He wants to be, and would be, if they let Him, and how much better and fuller and richer and bigger their lives would be if they did, and all these thoughts made me start crying right there on the Guide Meridian. Right in front of God and everyone, because He looks into all those cars, sees all the pain in all those lives and...IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE THIS WAY.
I mean, Jesus came so that it didn't. And it kills me. Yes, sometimes it just kills me that there's so much pain in the world. But today, rather than it just killing me (metaphorically, of course), it broke me wide-open into praying for those cars beside me. The black range rover with the Decoratr license plate in front of me, and the pink (!!!) breast-cancer awareness garbage truck beside in front of that.
This day had a bad moment in it, one I'll pay for (and eat from), but another when God woke me up. One didn't reflect well on me. But the other? Very well on Him. And that makes up for a lot.
PS. Those of you who don't already read E's blog, you should check it out. She's posting pictures (and commentary) from her trip, and some of it's hilarious. As she is! You can reach it by clicking on the Random Stupidness link on the side.