Wednesday, November 25, 2009

sick

So...I have a cold. It is not pleasant. I means that I dream about not being able to breathe. It means that there is a damp spot under my nose when I wake up. It means that my chest is tight and I get winded climbing the stairs to my bedroom. It means that my throat is scratchy and I am always thirsty. It means that everything seems like a bigger deal than it really is.

This morning, the doorbell buzzed while I was still in bed, sleeping the open-mouthed, sweaty sleep of the sick. I woke up, a bit groggy, but aware enough to know who it was. The mailman was delivering books which I had ordered. Yeah! I was waiting for this shipment and was happy to receive it before the Friday deadline. The mailman usually just leaves the package in the hallway of our condo building when I am away, so because I was feeling kind of rough and certainly looking like someone's nightmare (plus, I didn't want to infect the poor man with whatever I had, I reasoned), I decided not to answer the door. I stood just inside and listened. And I heard a little voice tell me that I was just being proud, unwilling to let someone see me not at my best. Yes, I was unwilling to have someone think, "Whoa, that woman just woke up and she looks scary!" So I waited until he left, then tiptoed down the stairs to the building's mailboxes.

There was no box waiting for me. What? I saw the mailman get into his red and white truck and just stared at the sad empty space above the mailboxes. Why hadn't he left my package? Didn't he know I was waiting upstairs, afraid to come down because I wasn't wearing my best jeans and my cute purple top, and because I had not taken a shower, brushed my teeth, put on any make-up, combed my hair, nor wiped my face clean of sleep and mucus? Didn't he trust me to come and get it the minute he was gone and I could pick it up without being seen? All that was waiting for me was a notice that it would be available the next day. I briefly thought about racing out into the street and trying to catch him before he drove away, but I knew that I wasn't up for it, so I watched him drive away with my precious books. Didn't he know that I didn't have the energy right now in my weakened state to walk 20 minutes to the post office to pick it up? I guess not.

Sometimes when I need it the most, I am the most unwilling to put myself out there to receive something. I don't really want the package or the gift that badly, I realise. I would rather have people think well of me, not show them my weakness, my sickness, my disease. I would rather wait and do it my way, expending much more effort just to avoid being seen as I am. That's just stupid pride and it has cost me dearly over and over again. Hopefully, this time I learned something. When God brings an opportunity or a gift to me, I will not hide behind my door, self-conscious and afraid, but boldly step into the open and receive that most wondrous thing that I have been waiting for, in whatever state I find myself in. It is worth it. I don't want to miss the chance again. Good receivers have to leave their comfort zone.

This is a picture of me saying "no" to the camera in my bathrobe.

1 comment:

Lori said...

LOL that's exactly how I felt Sunday night. I'm sure Mr Postman would not have been offended by your snorky state of being....enjoy your new books.