Rich and Skinny
This week I’ve had the creepies under my skin. If you have kept up with me at all this week, you may have noticed a little moodiness. Please forgive me if you came here for encouragement – though I probably made you feel better about yourself. Sometimes it’s good to see other people act like people. I’m human all over myself – inside and out.
People aggravate me. Sometimes my kids get on my nerves; actually, they do that a lot. Sometimes I get on my own nerves. Worst of all, I pine for Seth when he isn’t home, and this week when he walked in the door from very hard and long days of work, I morphed into some misunderstood, clawing grunt. I’ve been awful. I wrote the word dogpoo in my blog yesterday. I have pitched a royal fit about not taking a vacation.
I haven’t wanted to serve the people in this house anymore.
I am not content.
Here’s the Worst Confession of All …
I went to a boutique shop in the area to look at shirt styles so I could purchase something similar at TJ Maxx, and for some reason, I put on a pair of blue jeans. These jeans pick up the part of my rear that has somehow fallen into my legs. They set everything straight and cover every square inch of my shapeliest part.
Price Tag? $200
Name Brand? Rich & Skinny
Rich and Skinny! Whether we say it or not, we do just want to be rich and skinny – it’s the American Dream. But I am not rich (not like that), and my booty is a far cry from skinny. And if I were rich, and if I were skinny, and I had those blue jeans, I think I would hate myself. I’m still like a little girl dog-earring every single page of the Sears Christmas Catalog – all the while knowing that Francis, down the road, had worn the same shoes for 3 years, and her toes had grown 2 inches out the end of them.
Something’s wrong with my world. We work, and we are tired, so we consider ourselves deserving.
I’m not against enjoying material things. Come around us, and you’d know. We take a fine liking to food and drink and the feel of fabric and the cast from certain light bulbs. But what if we all did without (like, say for example, Jesus)? Wouldn’t the world be a completely different place if American Christians gave up certain blue jeans? There is no room for judgement. We don’t have time or energy for that. We truly can’t afford to point fingers. You can wear your Rich and Skinny jeans every day of the week, and I’ll still notice them and want them. I’m just saying.
I just don’t need to pretend anymore. I know what I deserve.
If you’ve ever had a baby, you know the feeling of a great weight passing – and taking on such a relief that you are forever changed – simply by bearing a weight and, in one moment, being delivered from it.
If I think to do it, I can recall a moment, where I was sitting on a bed in a dorm room, and I had been so heavy that I could have dropped a ripping hole down through the middle of the earth, and then I believed that there must really be such a thing as grace or I would die. And I took Jesus to mean what He said. And then I was weightless. I could have floated out the window and been caught up in the wind.
It’s a little silly, but in the switch of a mind and a breath in the spirit, I became rich, and I became skinny.
When people congratulate and pat my back, when I have worked until I cry, when I go unnoticed, when I am perceived rich or skinny, I can’t press Snooze on my memory. I don’t deserve to smell a sweet candle or to watch a good movie anymore than Francis deserved new shoes or any more than the hungry deserve a bite of food. I do not deserve to sell my big-A house any more than the addicted, homeless man deserves a shelter.