One hundred fourteen days…

I’m not feeling well.  As I’m typing, all I can think of is the hideous amount of germs that must be covering this keyboard.  While I sneeze, cough, blow my nose, throw the tissue behind me and repeat the process, I’m remembering being a kid and caring less about germs.  As a child, I didn’t give it a second thought if someone sneezed or coughed all over me.  As an almost 40 year old, when this happens, I begin the decontamination process.  (It obviously didn’t work this time.)  When you’re a kid, not much fazes you.  When you’re almost 40, everything fazes you.  Our minds process circumstances differently in adulthood compared to adolescence.  Thank God!  However, there is something to be said about a child’s ability to shrug things off and keep going in tough times.  Kids are resilient.  Someone sneezes on them, and they brush it off without hesitation.  To take it a step further, after being sprayed with germs, most children probably wouldn’t even wash their hands (scary but true).

I may not have started out a “germaphobe,” but it didn’t take long for certain instances in life to transpire and send me running to the drug store for remedies.  Some of this fear was probably planted in me.  I had an amazing grandmother, but she worried about me constantly (probably because she loved me so much).  In the midst of worrying, she would sometimes say bizarre things intended for keeping me safe.  Somewhere around age 7, I thought it would be funny to take off my shoes, roll up my jeans in the cool of fall, and step into a baby pool filled with algae green water.  She was quick to run out of the house, (where she was watching my every move from a nearby window) and tell me I was going to become sick with polio. (Huh?)  I had no Idea what in the world polio even was, but from the look in her eyes, I knew if I didn’t hop out of the murky green water immediately, I was going to catch it and die!  I sprinted through the alley home to my mother, all the while crying with hysterics, insisting she call the doctor to assure me I would not contract the poliovirus.  My mother pretended to phone the doctor to reassure me I would be okay. Hey, it worked.  Therefore, I blame my over- thinking, sometimes fear-filled ways, on grandma Jane (God rest her beautiful soul) for loving me so much that she scared the b’jeebers out of me with all kinds of crazy stuff.

I tell you all this, because as I blog more of my book you will gain an understanding of all my little childhood fears and idiosyncrasies.  I will share some more of the book soon.  But, right now, since I have been crying with laughter while remembering my grandma and all her silliness, my nasal passages are completely clogged, so I should go.  But, before I do, let me leave you with this thought (Please forgive my undignified manner as I impart it.)

Metaphorically speaking, we all need to work on brushing the snot off when someone sneezes on us.  Don’t be so quick to run to the antibacterial wipes.  Work hard at not worrying so much, enjoy today, give God all glory for each new situation as it arises, and no matter how difficult today seems… take a deep breath.  Childlike resilience….



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