These remarks are usually to do with cute babies and Wyatt growing up a little more each day. But deep down, I knew there was more to it than that.
My main problem is that I think too much.
This often leads to interesting conversations, both with others who share this trait and one in particular who does not.
I am married to the one human being on the planet who tiptoes through sunshine and roses every day. Zac has told me “It’s all going to be okay” so many times that I am tempted to get him his own bumper sticker.
I actually like something he quoted to me from one of his favorite books better: “We’ll survive, the Light willing…And if the Light doesn’t will, we’ll still survive.”
As we lay in bed one night talking about a book I was reading, I asked him to share some of his internal struggles with me.
He said he didn’t have any. I stared at him in silence.
Then I demanded that he describe the doubts and fears that creep into his mind at odd hours of the day and the questions that keep him up at night.
By the time I was ranting about the darkness that eats away at everybody’s soul sometime, even I knew I sounded like a crazy person.
Although it is difficult for me to understand how Zac’s brain can operate so differently from my own, I secretly envy him for it. It must be nice to see the good in people and the world naturally instead of having to work at it.
A big part of my mid-20s crisis is being honest about who I really am, who I would like to be and working to bridge the gap between the two.
Rethinking the way I think is important. Life has a way of shining a light on my problem areas when I least expect it.
For example, the other day Zac and I took Wyatt to the park. Another family was there, and one of the parents was smoking.
I have never smoked and have never given much thought to people smoking around me. However, I don’t want Wyatt’s little lungs exposed to it.
I was standing on the sidelines brooding about the city’s need for a no-smoking ordinance when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the mother of the other children offering a drink to my son.
I felt like she had dumped a cup of cold water on my head.
I hadn’t brought a drink for Wyatt because I knew we weren’t going to be gone that long. However, even if I had a spare one in his diaper bag, I’m not sure the thought would have occurred to me to share it with someone else’s child.
In fact, I wasn’t being very friendly at all. I preferred to stand off in my own little world as usual instead of trying to connect with another human being.
Our topic of discussion in Sunday School last week was relationships, and the first verse was a familiar one – judge not that ye be not judged.
Then a church that I pass every day on my way to work put a message on its sign that when we judge people, we don’t have any time to love them.
I’m starting to think God is trying to tell me something.