Normal lived with me for two years and I adored her. Normal was oddly calming. Although I didn’t always notice her unobtrusive presence around the house, she felt as familiar and comfortable as my beat up, chenille couch.
I started taking her for granted. Occasionally I even
treated her with contempt while insinuating she was boring.
Then, last May she walked out on me and even persuaded Certainty to tag along. Both left a gap behind.
I did my best to fill the space they’d occupied and poured my energy into raising a puppy, keeping my toddler grandchild and reading the Bible.
On days when I acutely missed Normal, I told myself she was just on vacation and would move back in soon.
Fall came and went and November arrived with promise. Christmas was around the corner and everyone was turning cheerful. Puppy was becoming obedient and Grandchild learned to say please and thank you instead of growling at people.
When my thyroid started doing funny stuff like keeping me up from 3 am and Puppy died from a birth defect, Half Normal knocked on my door. I grudgingly accepted him.
Verses like “I can do all thing through Christ who gives me strength,” became my go-to. Jesus and I still went Christmas shopping at Macy’s and J.C Penney and actually succeeded in getting everyone gifts.
When 2020 rolled around, I woke bright and blue eyed, wanting to laugh at the future.
That week my tummy went on strike, picking a fit every time I ate. Half Normal vacillated. “There are so many new food chores,” he complained. “Eating bone broth soup 3 times a day and forcing down a million supplements inconveniences me.”
To my great dismay, when February arrived, Half Normal packed his bags and vanished. A note tacked to the fridge informed me he couldn’t live without sugar, gluten, dairy or my lost sense of humor.
Too foggy headed to care, I underwent a mini surgery and dealt with a traumatic family situation that absolutely did not normalize.
Then unexpectedly, someone named Mr. Corona Virus started harassing folks in my neighborhood.
I sighed, and prayed for the ones affected by his shenanigans, but ignored his bullying.
Unfortunately, Mr. Corona found a way to multiply and lurk in unprecedented places. He left his calling card behind at my doctor’s office and created havoc in people I had considered friendly before.
Then finally, 2 days ago, during a trip to Sam’s Club, a girl I had avoided at all cost jumped onto by back. Although I wrestled her to the ground, trying to shake her off, she returned home with me. Now Miss Abnormal is occupying my personal space. Although I resent her intrusion, she remains a thorn in my flesh, nagging me and sending me into a tailspin.
Today as I chat with Jesus about her, he actually brings up Normal.
“Please, don’t,” I hold up a hand. “It’s a painful topic. I miss her so much. We were best friends.” Jesus leans in tenderly and looks me deep in the eyes. “Really?” Sounds like a fickle choice…”
I grow hot and defensive. “She was an easy companion who didn’t demand much. I NEED her. She stabilizes me.”
Again he smiles and moves an inch closer. “I love you so much.”
His demeanor ruffles me. “I know , I know,” I pat his hand.
“No, you don’t know.” He rises. And as he does , he grows taller and bigger and more muscular.
“I with capital I. I am the one who loves you. Normal doesn’t even know what love means.” His eyes flash. “Do you even know what she is?”
Confused, I stare at his overpowering presence.
“Um, she’s predictable..”
He laughs. “That’s because you and a bunch of other humans invented her. She was taylormade by you guys to tamp down fear. Kind of like a social experiment created in a lab.”
“Did she give you the illusion of peace?”
“Would you like the real commodity instead?”
“Real peace. You live on earth. There is no Normal here.”
“Argh!” I fume.
“But there is Real Peace. He is a kind Ruler. And there is Constant. Constant is reliable and willing to move in with you,” Jesus ventures.
“Who is Constant?”
“He is a reliable worker. His job would be to ensure that the faucets in your house keep running over with my love, peace, and joy.”
“Is he high maintenance?” I tremble, dreading another chore.
Jesus chuckles. “No maintenance. He needs nothing from you except permission to stay.”
“Deal. I’ll take him. And Real Peace can come set up a command center where my TV is.” I high five Jesus.
He high fives me back. "Remember when I said 'lo'?
"Lo, not lol?"
"Yes. Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world." He winks: “Are you ready?” Jesus puts on a backpack and bends over to tighten the laces of the hiking boots he's wearing.
“Ready for what?”
“To ignore Abnormal and go hiking.”
I laugh recklessly and grab my favorite, pink down jacket. “I am. I don't mind the strain. Let’s climb high and find a speactacular vista.”
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Mega blessings to you!