Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Peculiar Situations--Boyfriends and Bras

(This is a two-part series. Tomorrow’s is titled Bras, Horses and Cats. Please bear with me. God is teaching me and sometimes it takes some time and effort to connect the dots.)
Peculiar situations seem to be a penchant of mine. Perhaps, the Lord is just trying to teach me to laugh at myself, to not take myself so seriously or just to keep life in perspective. I’m not completely sure of his lessons or his methodology. Not because I don’t trust him; I’m just not sure I trust myself to respond appropriately. I tend to lean toward making a fool of myself—of course that would imply I am not a fool in the first place.
My youngest daughter coined a phrase for me. We were riding in the car listening to the Disney Pandora station. Both of us were loudly singing every song we knew and even some we didn’t. She commented that it was a very peculiar situation for a mom to be in a car with her eighteen year old daughter engaged in this activity. (I think my husband thought so too.)
And then I realized something. For thirty-some years God has been using peculiar situations to teach me. I am a slow learner.
I accounted for one of these:  my car trunk debacle during the past Christmas season—that was just one peculiar situation in a long line of many.
I’ll share a few others in a two part series.
I have not used names in order to protect the innocent. (I'm chuckling right now.)
When I was fourteen and in the eighth grade I was going steady with a really cool guy—he was ever so handsome (he had a full beard as a freshman in high school). I never could quite understand how I managed to be dating him. Certainly the adjective cool could not have been applied to me, but somehow we were an item. It was just too good to be true.
It was too good to be true.
A couple of months into our relationship I heard an undercurrent buzz: he was cheating on me with one of the color guard girls. I was just a lowly clarinet player, nothing nearly as glamorous as the color guard.
Now, with thirty-some years of experience behind me I think everyone wanted me to hear the rumors. Are you kidding? HE probably wanted me to hear the rumors. The rumors alluded to the location and time of my boyfriend and this girl’s clandestine meeting place. Somehow I drummed up enough courage to go see for myself. Sure enough. There they were—locked in a very intimate embrace (holding hands and leaning into one another). Others saw me coming and alerted them, but it was apparent they were prepared for my appearance. Many students watched me walk into this awkward situation. Some snickered and pointed. Some averted their eyes. Some walked away. Needless to say, that cool boyfriend and I broke up that day. Brokenhearted and embarrassed I realized I had not only been dumped, but duped. I’m not sure which I disliked more.

Fast forward several years. I’m married now and in labor (prime place to be in a peculiar situation) with my first child. I engaged in quite an adamant argument with ALL the medical staff who were assisting this birth about the removal of a particular undergarment I wore. I informed them I was not removing it. They informed me I had to comply. The situation escalated. Finally, I looked at the head nurse and informed her that if something dire went wrong (she told me of all possible scenarios) that she had my permission to cut the garment right off of me and throw it in the trash. I most surely could replace it if need be.
Pitocin-induced labor is NOT a time to argue with a laboring mother. They shook their heads. Threw up their hands. And they complied. I came out of that delivery room with said undergarment intact. Surely there were other things I should have been concerned with. Certainly there were things far more pressing happening in that given moment, but I didn’t want to deal with embarrassment on top of all the other indignities. I know. I know there will be other mothers who will read this and think I was crazy and not agree. This, they say, was the last thing on their mind or not on their mind at all. But it was mine. Being exposed embarrassed me. Being in an awkward situation and exposed was very hard to deal with and this was my way of controlling it as best as I could.
To be continued...










No comments:

The Thrill of Hope--Jeremiah, Part 1

One April evening in 2017 we reached for your Mama and Daddy’s hands and led them into the stillness of an empty sanctuary. At an altar we...