Today I feel like crying. You know that feeling where you need to sneeze, but it doesn’t happen? That is the feeling I have about crying today. I didn’t sleep well last night and maybe that is it. I am nonplussed about the lack of moral fiber in America, as seen recently in a few colleges. Maybe that’s it. I won’t say it out loud, but I feel ‘small’ again.
I want to live out loud. I want my life to be that hysterical cowbell skit. I want to be able to listen to God telling me, in his best Christopher Walken voice, “I have a fever, and the only cure is more cowbell.” I want my heart, mind, soul to soar. I want to recognize the day and rejoice in it. Instead I “walk around like Charlie Brown, full of hope, eyes to the ground.”
I have been stuck, recently, thinking of what glorious triumphs and adventures I should undertake. I have been creating a scenario of reviving aspects of my life.
Unfortunately, I have been dwelling on the ‘have to’s’. I am tired of suffocating under that weight.
Enough of the preamble. Starting a few years ago, I leaped out of the boat (stepping is for wimps). I was told, by God (yes, I know it sounds crazy), that the life I was leading was not what was intended for me. It was not even really living. He wanted abundance and I chose absence.
Prior to this experience and really for a multitude of my life, I have not enjoyed crowds. I really don’t like parties. I don’t even like dinner parties with people that I don’t know real well. After this leap, I felt like I had to give it another try. It was OK. I certainly didn’t feel the need to run away. However, I was always longing to be back home. I continued to feel the anxiety days before the party. I was just a little better at talking to God about it. After forcing myself to do that for a few years, I became less and less willing to do it. The difference is that I don’t make excuses, I just say I don’t want to go. Really, I just don’t want to worry about it 3 days in advance, and spend the time with my skin crawling.
The problem for me is that I had a family that loves socializing. They get fed by interactions with people, where I get starved. They are rejuvenated, where I am exhausted. The quandary: is there a fair balance? Does everyone’s cowbell have to sound the same? Should I make my gong ring like those around me? Should they have to work around my peccadilloes? Why are there locks on 7/11, they are open 24 hours?
And God spoke, “I need more cowbell.” The humbling, tear-jerking reality for me is that while God speaks, He also whispers, “I need your cowbell.” I feel softly touched and held. Who I am is important to Our Creator. God wants me for me. He wants me to live abundantly as ME. What a beautiful noise.