Friday, November 2, 2012

Seven Places At Once

I've been known to struggle with indecision.

"She can't make up her mind," family members murmured.

Their under breath comments cut deep.

Then I met Rob.

Two poignant moments convinced me that everafter would be ok.

He gave me a lift to the hair salon at age 21.

He sat watching as the stylist needled light brown fountains through a plastic cap on my head.

His familiarity with science fiction I guess is why my frosting experiment didn't throw him.

Beyond mirrored reflection of bleaching sprigs, he watched intrigued. I thought to myself, "I'm not the least bit uncomfortable. Oh my gosh. I'm probably going to marry this guy."

                                                                    * * * *

I don't know where we were when he said it. I guess it doesn't matter. It was his words and sincere blue eyes that propped the setting and the trajectory of the rest of my life.

"Let me just tell you right now. You won't find anyone better than me. You'll never find a man who loves you more than I do."


Did he have nerve or what? I liked it. I loved him. I thought of my mother when she pulled me aside and announced, "You're not going to find anyone better than him."

I had to admit they were right. I decided on "I do."

Everyday decisions aren't so easy.

Sometimes I wish I were an introvert. Maybe I'd be a bit more focused. Maybe colors, personalities, food, books, hobbies, careers, and bucket lists wouldn't hold as much fascination as they do.

I don't ever do just one thing at a time.

Laundry sudsing. Pot boiling. Facebook logging. Teens texting and begging.

It's like I was wired this way. I have no choice but to multi-task.

Look at the big picture. Spin the plates. Juggle the apples and oranges.

Keep a tool moving. It's the quickest way to finishing a job.

So in making a decision, I avoid it. I let things materialize on their own, a lot.

When Rob asks, "Where do you want to eat for lunch?", I panic.

"I don't know. Where do you want to go? "

Sometimes, I'll say, "Chevelle's." Just to get it off my plate.

Of which he turns the steering wheel, exhaling relief. "Thank you for making up your mind."

One more checked off. Make wife happy.

But there are still six on the list.

The girls' state X-Country meet is Saturday, near my son's college.

It will cost money. I'll drive 4 1/2 hours, there and back. I'll get to see my son.

I'll cheer on my daughters as one runs the last 5k of her senior year.

Yet, our other son is home for only a few days. He's so grown up. He walks in the front door and he looks so big, like not my son. Like some young man with square jaw and shoulders.

One car is in the body shop. The front grill is pushed in for the second time. All the more reason to take care of my sweet Vanna White. If I stay home, I'll save her some miles and mountain wear and tear.

I can't decide.

I polish off half a bag of chocolate mint truffles and two glasses of red.

I sleep for three hours and wake up with delayed caffeine jolt.

My son calls this a First World problem. Chocolate and wine.

Here I sit, praying for wisdom about making this trip.

I can't be in seven places at once.

But maybe I can. Because wherever I am, it is my spirit that is present in all places. Not like God. I don't mean omnipresence.

But through texts, prayers, and face to face, my heart beats.

Wherever my physical body ends up, I'm in the right place.

It is God who directs my steps.

Again, I don't decide.

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