I stand in line at Kroger tonight, balancing a roll of sausage, Bisquick and cheese in one hand, milk and coffee in the other. I am chastising myself for not picking up a basket. I close one eye and try to focus the other on the small print of the sales circular that sits on the conveyor belt. I try to make out the words but it’s a blur. I cannot get used to these contacts which are supposed to trick my eyes into focusing without bifocals. I sigh. It’s not working and now I have a headache from lopsided vision all day. I whisper to myself, ” Geez it sucks to get old!” And then I see her, actually I hear her. She sighs to and whispers to herself, ” Gah! My back hurts” She rubs her swayback that is shaped in a pronounced “C”. She turns and I see a belly that is swollen with baby. Nine months of baby, at least. We catch each other’s eye. I give her a sympathetic smile and she smiles back. I’m trying to get this middle age season right. I struggle with what changes in me, but then I see her, and I realize that change never stops. It rolls on and on. Rolls right over top of us if we don’t change with it. I walk out to the car and whisper to God this time…” Change me…however you want to…it’s Ok with me. I’m ok with age. I don’t really want to go back.”
We send text nearly everyday, praying for each other. She contemplates the seriousness of leaving her husband, of mothering children alone. She says it will be easier than the hell she is in now. I don’t say much, mostly just pray for her. I have no answers, and she does not need my advice anyways. Then yesterday she text me to say. ” I’m staying.” She tells me that she wants to be changed. She tells me that she is willing to wait it out if God will use her circumstances to change her….to be more like the Son. She asks me to pray that her focus will be in changing her instead of him. I cry on my way home…. over her…..over me and my stubborn will. I whisper, “Change me too God, however You want to…it’s OK with me.”
I tell the Mister exactly what is on my mind. I pour our my complaints about parenting grown kids to him. He listens quietly, shakes his head in agreement and is quiet some more. Then almost tenderly he begins to list beautiful, wonderful things about his girls. They far outweigh my complaints and I stare out the window so he won’t see me tear up. I whisper to God “Change me….however you want to…it’s Ok with me. Make me sweeter, make me more loving like The Mister.”
In one day in three different ways God reminds me that He calls the shots. He gets the final say. I don’t know best. He tells me that He loves me too much to let me stay how I am. Change rolls on. It rolls right over top of me if I’m not looking. But I’m looking God and I’m ready. Change me.