You know how sometimes you just KNOW God has placed you in a certain position, albeit uncomfortable, because He has a plan that is nothing like yours?
Take me, for instance. And that time I decided to share a dorm room with some girls who are literally young enough to be my children. I am almost TWICE their age. (I will never admit that in public, so if you mention it I will disavow all knowledge of this entire paragraph.) Where was I? Oh yes.
So I thought I was doing well. I wasn’t griping about the 2 am arrivals home. Or the 2 am departures from home. The stomping down the hall that accompanies the departures and arrivals. (Maybe because I’m so old my hearing is going, and I can’t hear… right?) I wasn’t hogging the refrigerator, counting the empty beer cans on the counter, snuggling up on the couch with them, or pretending to be best buds. I would ask how their day was, and make small talk on my way in and out. Oh and by the way, I do NOT wear clothes from 20 years ago, frumpy attire, or mom jeans. Just thought I would throw that out there.
And then one day I discovered that I had developed some sort of leper-esque qualities.
Like the day I came in and decided to make my first meal IN the apartment. It was week FOUR (Don’t ask me why it took four weeks to cook a meal there. That’s a story for another day. Just. No.) Roomie 1 and 2 come in. Roomie 2 sits down at the laptop to hear an instructor go over a video syllabus. Roomie 1 starts loading the dishwasher. Meanwhile, I stand there, spatula in hand like some sort of life-size kitchen mannequin. Roomie 2 is engrossed in her syllabus and Roomie 1, once the dishwasher is empty, leaves the room.
“How was your day? Fine? Oh my day was great, thanks for asking! My weekend? So much fun! We saw a movie and the kids wanted to play Connect 4 and feed some ducks,” I said to the imaginary Roomie who was asking me about my fascinating life. (Don’t judge. I like Connect 4. And ducks.)
Roomie 2 proceeds to hop up and go blow-dry her hair, and then calls out “I’m going out.” Roomie 1 comes out randomly a few minutes later and tells the dog that they’re leaving. As in her… and the dog. I mean, she doesn’t tell me that the two of them are leaving. She tells the dog that they’re leaving.
In case you were wondering, yes I do still have my spatula in hand.
And that’s when I realized: Karen has cooties! That’s it, right? That’s the only good reason why you would walk right past someone without replying to their hello. Someone who lives in your house.
I thought for a second, “Maybe I’m invisible!” But then surely they would have noticed a plastic spatula hovering in mid-air. One would think.
But that’s not it either. If you want my honest opinion, I think God opened this door on purpose so that I could have all the quiet time I needed to work on the projects He’s been asking me to do. With no distractions or party invites or roomies that will keep me up all night chatting like my girlfriends would.
Is it the way I envisioned it? No. As much as I’d like to think I am Drew Barrymore and have made the switch from nerdy-copy-editor-to-coolest-new-girl-in-class, I’m just the strange cootie-lady in the second bedroom on the left. To be clear, I am not a wallflower. I can hold my own in a room full of strangers, and can throw a 31 party like nobody’s business. But for this instance, for this time, I am something else and that’s okay with me. You see, sometimes God puts us in situations that aren’t OUR idea of the perfect plan because He needs us to turn our attention to Him for awhile… so we can wait for HIS perfect plan.
Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll keep you posted.