Today was one of those days when I just couldn’t seem to create any forward motion. I had plans to get things done, to get dressed, to brush my teeth, to move about in a productive manner. But alas, it was nearly time for lunch and I had accomplished nothing more than a brisk 30-minute walk on the treadmill. And I only got that done because I parked my child in front of the television.
And that is about the time the doorbell rang.
So, I jumped off the treadmill and hastily pulled on a tank top over my sweaty jog bra and my 1980s paint-splattered jogging shorts, the one with the L-shaped rip on the leg. And then I zipped down the stairs in a cloud of perspiration to greet the Publishing Clearing House team.
But it was not Ed McMahon. It was a gal from church. Wearing a stylish pale blue matching shorts set. And probably deodorant.
With no other option at my disposal, I decided to rise above it in a Kathryn Hepburn sort of way and just pretend that I did not smell like last night’s Long John Silvers or have sweaty wet hair sticking to my neck or my tank top on inside out. And with my spine straight and my neck stretched tall, I opened the door and greeted her.
To her credit, she came in when I invited her and didn’t even wrinkle her nose. I had agreed to help out with Vacation Bible School and she was dropping off the lesson material, as she said she would. About that time, Sean ran past wearing nothing but a pajama top.
Yet she handed me the lesson material anyway and is entrusting me to instruct small children in the ways of the Lord.
I’m not sure if that represents her degree of faith in what God can do with someone like me or her degree of desperation for VBS teachers.