Standing in my Circle
I read the most wonderful meditation this week. It was written by Alexandria Stoddard and was a gift from my Mother. Either this Christmas or 8 years ago.
It takes me a long time to decide I’m going to read a book that someone else chose for me. Remember how long it took me to catch on to Jen?
For the Love!
Circle. Alexandria, in this devotion, gave the visual of a circle.
And we are in the middle. Well, I’m in the middle. You’ve got your own circle.
We used to say, “you’re in my space”.
Now we say, “you’re in my bubble.”
It really means the same thing. Stay in your own circle.
I’m a dot. In the middle of the circle. This is my life.
For much of the past few years, my dot has been bouncing all around, hitting the surface of my circle and re-acting to pretty much anything or anyone who annoys me.
She hurt my feelings.
Oh my gosh, that is so not true!
I will not respond. I will not respond. Are you kidding me? I must respond!
Did you see what she wrote on Facebook?
That is me. A ping-pong ball.
“Be Still and know that I am God.” has got to be the most ridiculously unrealistic verse in the Bible. God had no idea what I’d be up against or this never would’ve been required!
Coulter recently learned to play beer pong. Thank you David Dykes.
(Which I get is a leap from what God is requiring of me.) Stay with me.
Fortunately, there was no beer involved, nor do I think Coulter knows that beer is usually involved. He thinks it just a funny name.
He’s also the kid who was scared to get a pina colada sucker because he had heard once that a pina colada was alcohol. I assured him the sucker was safe.
So for the past month, we’ve been bouncing balls into cups and while the sound is seriously disturbing, I at least get to sit.
Coulter doesn’t like to sit. Last week, he pleaded with me to jump on the trampoline.
Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think 44 year-old women should jump on trampolines. At some point this becomes dangerous.
I’m already super close to needing reading glasses. And by super close, I mean I actually need them.
Anyone who’s old enough to wear reading glasses should not be allowed on a trampoline.
So beer pong is the compromise. We even once played it on the trampoline.
It’s almost impossible to aim. To control. To plan. It’s dumb luck and I think my ball has made it into the cup twice.
But the sound. Oh my word, y’all. This jolting sound of the bouncing is horrible.
It’s like you’re on a fire truck, sirens blazing and on the inside of the truck there’s a super annoying kid, scratching his fingers on the chalkboard and the other super annoying kid, on the fire truck, with the chalkboard, is BOTTLE FLIPPING!
Bless my heart, the sounds.
I recently look a test that determined, surprisingly (not surprisingly) that I am a highly sensitive person.
I’ve written about this before. I love that it doesn’t say overly.
I’m not overly sensitive. I’m the perfect amount of sensitive for me.
My HSP (highly sensitive personality) test score was higher than my ACT score.
Never mind. I turned out fine.
Here’s my own test that you can take to determine your HSP numbers.
Number 1. If you were to commit a crime (accidentally of course) and the judge offered you two options for your punishment, which would you choose?
A.) A year in a private jail cell (with books, duh!) or
B.) 3 days of continuous bottle flipping.
Question number 2.
You are invited on an exotic vacation, the trip of an absolute lifetime, but the person who’s taking you eats loudly. Do you, A. go, or B., politely decline with something lame about needing to clean your house that weekend.
Number 3 and Final question. You husband pulls out an empty cardboard container from the fridge that once held yogurt and sweetly teases, are we refrigerating our recyclables, now?
You A. Burst into tears. or B.
There is no B. Of course you burst into tears. What kind of opposite of highly sensitive person are you, anyway?
Balls. Annoying sounds. Bouncing off the hard wood floors.
Annoying sounds. Bouncing off the circle that is my life.
What if I stood. Instead of bouncing, reacting to every annoying person, every hurt feeling, every offended sensibility and what if I stood.
In His Word? In the truth? In my cirle.
Two years ago, when Mike and I married, I wanted instant happy.
Happily ever after.
That day. I did not want to plant or grow or dig in or prune.
Lord have mercy, I did not want to be pruned either.
I wanted a flower garden. With butterflies. And children who sing and happily chase said butterflies.
We can bloom.
But first we plant.
Know that He is God.
Know that He is good.
And pray that after bottle flipping passes, the next youtube craze will be blowing dandelions.
In my garden.
With butterflies and people who eat quietly. 🙂