Thursday, October 1, 2015

Mom Jeans

A break in the rain doesn't always mean sunshine, y'all. And I am experiencing a severe lack of VitD over here. As in, I CANNOT EVEN FUNCTION IN SOCIETY. However, since I am at the library (because that printer of mine at home will not even do it's job and print), I've discovered that the library has brand new Mac computers with screens ten times the size of my head, and this makes me some kind of happy. I cannot even back up far enough to see the screen and still reach the keyboard without hurting my eyes. Everything is bright and blurry. I'm delirious.

Jack got home from school today and asked me point-blank exactly where the heck is Heaven, anyway. And before I could even pick up my jaw off the floor, he wanted to know if I honestly thought it was in the sky, as in above us, because then WOULDN'T IT BE BELOW US, TOO?????? (The earth is round.)

I don't even discuss heaven's precise location on Thursdays.

But since he asked, I felt the need to answer his question with some sound theology. As in, I have no idea, kid. He looked at me kind of funny but accepted my answer as-is and didn't press the issue. Sometimes I think that it's best to be honest instead of come up with some cockamamy story that nobody can believe. #heavenisforreal (Do I know? I don't. I haven't even seen it.)

So. Where is heaven, he wants to know. He is looking for a straight answer to one of life's most frustrating questions: if heaven is for real, then where the heck is it? Is it a place, or just a nice thought? Is it something we can see?

I did the best I could. Listen. I do not know the bible frontways and back again. I have learned a lot but have a very long way to go. This is okay with me, since learning too much all at one time blows my brain anyway. So I have to be real with my kids when they ask and tell them that I don't really know the answer to the question. There are mysteries of the bible that I won't ever actually know until I meet God face-to-face, and at that point, I'm not sure that any of the questions I wondered about during my abbreviated time on earth really matter, anyway.

Our time here is so short, when you think about it. The reel really does go by so fast, and before you know it you're 38. I know that 38 seems old to my kids and young to my grandma, but when I looked in the review mirror today and saw THREE GRAY HAIRS shining in the light (I mean, it's a cloudy day. I'm already suffering from Cloud-Induced Gloomy Syndrome. The grays had to make themselves known today?) I was done for. Really. It has gone by so fast. And everyday that goes by, I am more aware of my mortality. Meaning my humanness. As in, I won't be here forever, and I want to make the best life I can make while I'm here. Nobody went to a funeral gushing about how many loans the dead guy closed, you know? The things that we strive for day-to-day are so meaningless when your child comes home and starts asking about "where on the map could we mark heaven" and you start thinking about heaven as a place to be, which means the place you currently be won't be your permanent residence anymore.

Anna came to me this morning and asked if she could borrow a shirt. And pants, too, if I didn't care, and even if I did, could she? (At least she doesn't just take from my closet. That would be too much.) I thought a lot this morning about my style.  Maybe since she's asking it means I have exceptional style. (Good.) Or maybe it means that I dress like I'm 12 and I need to stop shopping in the juniors department, which in a sick twist of fate, I am literally growing out of. (Bad. Hello size 11's, how do you not fit me and thank you, Girl Next Dressing Room Door, for tossing your "too big" size 2's out and going to see if the 00 will work instead.) I mean, is it possible for me to have gotten 3 grey hairs, which is 2 more than I had just yesterday, and lost any semblance of style I had ever in a single day? (Mom jeans.)

Hurricane Joaquin is headed this way. Or at least the effects of Joaquin are. Which means wind and rain. More clouds.

I know.

Life is short and way too precious to worry over the following: gray hair. Being 38. And size 11 jeans.

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