No longer accepting entries | July 29

No longer accepting entries. You must know that means we have a winner, right?  And crime-in-ittley when I said the winner would be announced on Tuesday [It didn’t happen–yikes] that was the plan. This might not astound, astonish or surprise a single one of you–but–the day didn’t actually go as I’d planned–which isn’t a bad thing at all. In fact, it’s an answer to several prayers [current and otherwise]. Handsome Dude and I don’t have any children. [If you are in any way alarmed by that bit of information hurry to this post and then come back.] Several years ago we were talking about life and living and what we wanted to be–or didn’t want to be–when we grew up.  ‘Growing up’ is just around the corner so it’s a topic I think about a lot. Without going into any of the boring details [I know it’s a conversation many of you have had] we decided that one of the things we didn’t want to be was selfish.

Selfish is a hard thing not to be just because it’s what we are wont to do.

~sigh~

For me, it was primarily about the convenience of basically having one person to take care of: me. I’m not talking about the the kind of taking care of someone that is required [consistently, constantly, and courageously] in a marital relationship. I’m talking about the kind of taking care of someone that requires doing something for them instead of doing something for myself so often that sometimes what I want to do doesn’t get done. [You might need to read that sentence more than once.] Does that make sense?

Handsome Dude and I live lives that are quite independant of each other. [In fact, sometimes parallel to each other, which is an entirely different blog post.] He drives himself to work, feeds himself, has been completely potty-trained all the days that I’ve known him, can walk by himself [I don’t have to carry him anywhere], dresses himself, knows not to pick his nose in public, knows not to butt in front of someone else in a line, doesn’t spit on people, won’t stick a fork into a light socket, doesn’t pinch, punch or kick the neighbor’s dog, and always helps the elderly across the street. I didn’t teach him any of that. Someone else put aside something to teach him those things–but it wasnt’ me.

My plans for just about anything didn’t come to a screeching halt because of someone else. I was very possessive of my time. Warts were starting to show up on my face. Brooms came quickly at my bidding–and not for cleaning. At. my. bidding. I hadn’t acquired any particular fondness for spiders but it seemed likely that it would happen. I was becoming a time witch. A my time witch.

I say didn’t because that’s what we started praying for: inconvenience. I prayed for it a lot–still do. I prayed for opportunities, experiences, associations that I didn’t plan for. [I’m not talking spontaneity, here.] I wanted to learn what it felt like to care more about anyone at any time more than I cared about completing a task or sleeping or reading or my privacy or finishing a movie or even having things. I didn’t want to feel ‘put-out’ or irritated or any of those feelings that come when MY time line was being tweaked, altered or reconstructed.

Opportunities came the very next day.

And at first it was exasperating. E X A S P E R A T I N G.

I wasn’t necessarily interested in talking to a 5-year-old boy as often as he wanted to talk about what was troubling him about school and life in general. I frankly didn’t understand why he was coming to me in the first place. And he kept on coming back–for about two weeks. Every time he came he would ask if I had any children. When I told him we didn’ have any children he’d sit down on the front step and just start talking. I don’t imagine he even remembers those little porch talks. They were amazing. Amazing and inconvenient. Inconvenient for about two visits and the I started to hope he would come.

Another neighborhood child came knocking. And knocking.

“Okay. I can hear you. Don’t knock 400 more times. I’m as far away from the front door as I possibly can be. I’m coming. Stop knocking. No. Please don’t ring the doorbell, again. Seriously. Here I come. I’m climbing the stairs. One more knock and I am turning around and marching back to finish my project. I’m getting a bucket of water now and I will pour it on you. You’re still knocking.” Open door. “WHAT?!”

I didn’t really say that, though, because by the time my hand grabbed the doorknob I remember that this is exactly what I prayed for. And if I let it–it would change me in some really wonderful and necessary ways.

“Do you want to watch me ride my bike? I can go speedy fast and do tricks.”

Those particular children haven’t come by in years which tells you how long it’s been since I even began praying for life to be more inconvenient.

I’m miles away from being a consistently generous-hearted person. ~sheesh~ I’m light years away from being a consistently generous-hearted person. But I will take the transformation in the small increments that it comes. Yes, very much and please.

One of the blessed and unexpected consequences of ‘inconvenience’ has been this wondrous feeling of being needed–and not just needed for something that I can do for someone. I discovered that people could be comforted or relieved or feel blessed because I was there. That was a revelation. The kind of feeling needed like someone just wanted me in their life. Me. Moi being needed in someone’s life and NOT because I could sew, paint, fix, tend, tutor, entertain, create, or anything.

If selfishness is a spiritually disfiguring disease–then selflessness is its remedy–its antidote. And the splendid, wondrous thing is that the selflessness begins its healing immediately. The selfishness doesn’t have to be completely rooted out of your heart and mind for it to begin its restoration.

Which brings me back to this really great today that didn’t go as I’d planned. I love that someone can call me because they find comfort in my association. I love that those kids didn’t want me to leave because they just wanted me around. I love that a two-year-old will put her little face in her hands and ask me to read her a book as we FaceTime. I love that her mother will call me back and talk to me about things that are important to her and trust that it matters to me, too. I love that someone knows that I will always enthusiastically assure and reassure her that she is remarkable. I love it a lot.

And now–Wednesday–our winner-winner-oo-la-la will be announced. [Because today is a little more on point than yesterday.] As in right now.

Anyone is welcome to use that picture as a reference for how to tie a knot-head band. Or color coordinate one. Or apply lipstick. ~grin~ You don’t have to be the winner-winner-oo-la-la to benefit from this post.

Clappin’ hands at the ready?

C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S goes out to Carolyn Lupold Lewis! You are the lucky recipient of two very adorable knot-head bands [that’s what I’ve decided to call them].

Thank you to everyone who entered. Thank you. It was a glad thing for my heart to see the response. You’re awesome.

There’s a tutorial video coming–and I will certainly post it when it’s completed.

Enjoy the day.

May your inconveniences be many and bright.
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