"Can’t you read the sign?” It was a simple question that pierced like a shovel into my chest, unearthing dormant emotions and stung like hornet.

 

Taking a brief respite from being lost in worship and teaching that Sunday morning, I ever-so-discreetly headed out of the sanctuary. It was an overdue call to the Ladies Room and I suppose I was feeling self-conscious to begin with about getting up in the middle of church.

 

A system was in place so that the doors would not slam during the service (in case someone needed to pop out). Big signs on the main door redirected traffic through an exit where there would not be banging during the service.

 

I know myself well enough, and while it may have been a distraction that I walked down the aisle in the middle of the message, I was confident I could make it through the main door without a sound.

 

“Can’t you read the sign?”  It was the door police, launching out at me. I was stunned and felt instantly humiliated. Suddenly I was in elementary school where my teacher, who lacked any compassion towards my physiological make up, made me feel like a number one idiot for something minor I had done or could not do.

 

Perhaps it was wrong to interpret the rules myself, but most likely I wasn’t feeling well or had really left the potty situation to the bitter end.

 

The event may have been a no-brainer for someone else, but for me the feelings overflowed into my day like a sewage backup. Insecurity and childhood self esteem issues, children laughing at me about my academic struggles all came around to reinforce the comment.

 

If it had been me, I would have whispered, “Oops, wrong door,” with a loving smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder.

 

I am well aware that I cannot control the way others speak, I can however do a better job reevaluating what I heard, especially if I was wounded.

 

“Can’t you read the sign?” were the words that were said, but I heard was, “you rebellious idiot, what’s your problem, you can't do anything right?”

 

I discovered my oversensitivity recently when the same woman said something extremely complementary to me. My gut reaction was, “don’t you think I’m a looser because way back when I tried to sneak out of church through the door instead of following directions?”

 

I realized immediately how silly my response was in the first place. I was way off base in my interpretation, because of her direct style of communication.

 

How about you, is there a chance you have hung on to something that may very well have been spoken with different intentions than it was heard?

 

Check back for applications of communication.

Ultimately I don’t care what anyone, but God, thinks of me; however that does not mean I don’t feel the sting of rejection or judgment of man.   In my heart God’s love is more than enough but my flesh, that which houses my spirit, has a mind of her own.

 

“I don’t look right,” I might think, or “Everyone else was included but me”, “So and so doesn’t like me”…etc.  When it happens I race to the securest place I know of. I have a wellspring of love and endless adoration that is open twenty four hours a day.  I spiritually plop down on His lap, all by myself (while He continues to hold the rest of the world of course, with the identical tender loving care He is providong me) . “Daddy,” I might say, “I feel really out of place. Someone stung me today and it really made me doubt the way I am.  Can you remind me how much You love me?  Will You remind me that those things don’t matter, will you assure me that You are pleased with me?”

 

“Yes my dear,” He might lovingly say to my heart,  “You are exactly how I made you and I have a purpose for all your qualities, even ones people might not like.  You may not fit in with everyone on earth, but you’ll always fit in with Me.”  “I,” God might add, “am here for eternity, everyone else will just pass by (unless you are together in Heaven and your flesh will not be there, you will never feel an ounce of pain there, I promise!)”

 

Maybe I won’t be able to hear His voice in my heart so I will open the love letter He wrote me and read the truth as it tares through the lies.

 

Your love, O LORD, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies (Psalm 36:5).

How priceless is your unfailing love! Both high and low among men find refuge in the shadow of your wings (Psalm 36:7).

Within your temple, O God, we meditate on your unfailing love (Psalm 48:9).

But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; I trust in God's unfailing love for ever and ever (Psalm 52:8).

But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness (Psalm 86:15).

Give thanks to the God of heaven. His love endures forever (Psalm 136:26).

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future" (Jeremiah 29:11).

The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying: "I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness" (Jeremiah 31:3).

The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing" (Zephaniah 3:17).

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life (John 3:16).

Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends John 15:13).

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love (John 15:9).

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: "For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered." No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:35-39).

But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions--it is by grace you have been saved (Ephesians 2:4-5).

Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God (Ephesians 5:2).

But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit (Titus 3:4-5).

This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins (1 John 4:9-10). (Free Online Bible Study)

Then I will feel joy again and I will be refreshed to go out and shine His light, just as I am. 

Where is Erma Bombeck when I need her? I remember hearing of her when I was a teenager, back when my mere existence made life complex for my single mom. Though I was far too young to appreciate her humor, I know Ms. Bombeck wrote things that enabled my mom, in the throes of raising three teenagers, to laugh at real life scenarios. Man do I need some of that laughter right about now!

I really don’t want to get into all of the gory details but let’s just say I’ve had more service people come to my house in the last couple of weeks than Home Depot sees in their busiest hour. Maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but at the absolute most hectic season of my career ( of loving and supporting one busy man and mothering 4 boys) I have had more things break or become otherwise destroyed which required a lot of phone interactions and visits from various repair companies.

 

Among the crashes, outages, floods and lost connections, my washer machine died. With four very athletic sons, I really can’t begin to describe how that affects our household. You might have noticed I have the word ‘laundress’ as part of my job description on my bio. A laundress needs her washer!

 

So I canceled all pressing activities for the morning to await the service technician, because the laundry repair is critical to me and I couldn’t fathom missing it. Not too far into the AM, after I had successfully canceled all pending appointments, I received the call to tell me they were going to miss the appointed time frame. OK, I can handle one more set back. I could adjust my whole day once again, even though I will remind you I’m working overtime to begin with.

 

When they finally called to say they were coming, I was on a brief trip to the basement with another company who had just arrived with powerful equipment and hoses to extract water from my basement carpet. (Not related to the washer machine) When I came up and realized that after a whole day with my phone at my side (except for this very brief period) I missed the call!

 

I called back immediately, only to be routed through India and I was told in the most generic way “Sorry, we’ll have to reschedule.” Oh, for crying out loud, and let me assure you I began crying out loud!

 

Complete panic set in. I realize there is massive devastation all over the world right now and there are crises that my washer doesn’t hold a candle to, but between each and every one of my children having a year’s worth of field trips, end of the year parties and history displays- all in the course of 1 ½ weeks, coupled with my own self-inflicted guilt over the areas I’m falling short as a mother, I truly fell to pieces!

 

I called the company looking for some type of support, even just a sympathetic ear; I couldn’t get past India. Albeit they were perfectly nice I wanted someone to understand how traumatic it was for me to lose a whole day in the busiest season of my life, for no reason; only to be told I’d have to sacrifice another day in the near future. (Not to mention how life would smell in the meantime without my washer!) I kept trying to get through, thinking maybe not all calls were routed through India. By the 6^th or 7^th time I was so tired of verifying who I was with my name and address I began acting as Christ-centered as Anna Nicole Smith on drugs. Screaming at the poor Indian man, “I just want to speak to an American, someone in my own country...I will not give you my phone number!”

It was a complete crackup for my boys who were so precious, “is there anything we can do, have you called dad?” They dared not laugh until I was completely recovered, but I’m certain it made for some great middle school conversation the following day. When the carpet restoration guy came up to get payment for his work I was still unglued and couldn’t stop crying. Though he was far from the one I’d imagine to be the tenderhearted type when I first encountered him, he nevertheless was moved to compassion. “Mrs. Cole,” bless his heart, “it’s going to be alright.” I was bawling as I wrote out a check and told him my woes. (I didn’t explain to him the point that I should have, I didn’t tell him that I was a Christian and while this was an emotional crisis, I actually had a very firm foundation and as unglued as I was at the time, restoration and healing were on the horizon.)

 

Back to the reason for the tears in the first place, the formerly all-American company assured me they’d be out in a week to fix the washer, which simply instigated more crying. I kept thinking that they might call me up and say, “Mrs. Cole, we realize that you lost a whole day of your life, we’d like to have someone out at 7 AM tomorrow to make things right and to let you know how valuable your business is to us.” However, this same company that has sunk to the level that we all seem to hate of having foreigners handle our phone calls, didn’t have the ability to give me anything to compensate my major inconvenience. “I’m sorry my system won’t allow me to do that.”

 

Aside from the sheer paralyzing thought of the many unwashed sports uniforms piling up in my laundry room, this was really making me really sad as I was gaining insight to the state of our country! What’s up? We have people without work but we are employing foreigners regardless of how aggravating it is to the consumers, just for the sake of the almighty dollar.

 

My sadness came to a screeching halt when I ended up at the laundry mat! I hate to admit it, I never would have gone otherwise and yet it was the best part of my week. God carved out a couple of hours of my busy life. I arrived with a suburban full of dirty clothes and there I found Americans, in true form! I was so blessed to be in their midst, I can’t begin to tell you. I had been so disheartened at the state of my country, with the levels so many American companies have sunk to and yet so revived by the experience I had at the laundry mat. It wasn’t only me; my four year old had a field day too. With the coin changer, the fun machines that required more coins than he could correctly count in sequence and the carts that he could ride in while moving one load from a washer clear across the room to the dryer what more could he want?

 

Bottom line, I’m truly sad and embarrassed about my nervous breakdown. All along, however, I knew God was allowing this for some reason and while my behavior in no way indicated that I am a follower of Christ, the forgiveness and redemption I have today certainly does. I often wonder what God is up too, He’s so creative in His ways of growing us. Ultimately I am really thankful for seeing my country and the people who live here, in a better way than I would have if I had not had a plethora of service people trailing into my home and had I not spent a morning at

 

I’m outnumbered, to say the very least. God has blessed me with a husband and four sons. Oh how I envisioned mothering to incorporate black-patent-leather Mary Jane’s and adorable little dress coats with tights and ruffled panties.

In reality, what I have (and I’m not really complaining) is a wounded duck on my back porch. She’s bound to be comfortable with the huge box that was recovered from the recycling, a down comforter, various buckets full of water (each a different depth) for swimming, porch furniture turned over on its side to create comfortable boundaries and my yoga mat strategically placed for her utmost comfort and waste collection.

It’s not that I don’t want the duck; I sincerely have wanted a duck for a long time. It’s just that she’s not a duckling and I really don’t think she wants to be on my porch (regardless of all the fine amenities the boys have provided for her).