When Andrew went off to high school this year, I knew I’d have extra time on my hands. But I didn’t want to fill up the time slots prematurely, for fear that, if it didn’t work out, I would need to drop everything and go on homeschooling.

Thankfully, all is going smoothly, and Andrew loves school. Well, all except the Algebra part.

So now I must decide what I want to be when my kids grow up. It’s not like I’ve not given it any prior thought, but now that the opportunity is staring at me like some kind of bull in a toro match, I’m a smidgen intimidated. And undecided.

Do I go left? Right? Face the bull head on? Tease the bull and see what happens? Dance a little jig for the big brute to try and appease him? Feed him? Provoke him with my little red cape?

Whichever way I choose, I feel like it’s somewhat of a gamble. I might not like what I choose, once I’m fully committed. I might choose the wrong thing entirely. I might not have enough physical energy to do all I would like to take on.

In other words, I guess I’m afraid. Afraid that the ugly bull of empty nesting will ultimately stomp on me anyway, no matter what I do. Or that I will somehow get maimed and not be able to walk away the same person as I was (what I fear when I think of being a writer). Or maybe I’m afraid I will be successful and get a big head, with ugly horns and a flaring snout, just like the bull I’m fighting.

I’ve thought of retreating. Of running for my life, away from the bull and into the crowd where it’s safe. It would work, if I could run fast enough. But once I was safe, I’d have to deal with the fact that I cowered away from the battle … that I never even tried, and went for the easy, comfortable route instead of the difficult, but possibly victorious route.

The fact is, it will be a victorious route, whether I am quote unquote successful or not. Because I intend to fight the bull of empty nesting by the horns … head on, looking him straight in the eye, doing my best to empty nest unto the Lord. Little ol’ me will wrestle him to the ground while I cry out to Almighty God for help and strength, and that He would not only deliver me, but to enable me to win.

And if that doesn’t work ………………..

I’m whippin’ out my shotgun.

But in the depths of my heart, I know the shotgun can stay in the gun cabinet. Because that’s the kind of God I serve. One with all the strength, might, and wisdom I will ever need, and who is willing and able to help me if I just ask. He’s not afraid of the mistakes I might make along the way. He simply asks that I acknowledge the mistakes, in faith turn a different direction if need be, and try something else (again, in faith).

There isn’t any pressure to make an exactly perfect decision this. very. instant.

The only pressure is to remain in the battle.

So while I may not have won the war of empty nesting quite yet … I think that by staying put when I want to run … I’ve just won the first battle.

Take that, ya’ filthy, two-horned, snot flingin’ bull.

… the chronically ill.

If you don’t like to listen to sick people talk, hit the exit button now, because that’s where this post is headed.

When I woke up this morning, I was on day three of feeling really fatigued. I was in the thick of one of those weeks where everything becomes a strain – where getting up in the morning takes an unearthly amount of energy, even though I’ve slept for nearly eight hours straight. When I wake up feeling that way, it typically stays with me throughout the day. Vacuuming, washing dishes, toting laundry up and down the stairs, making dinner, or going to the grocery store feel more like I’m on a quest to climb Mt. Everest than a quest to simply do a few chores.

Anyway, like I said, I was on day three of one of these cycles when I started out this morning. I had to get up earlier than usual, because Andrew had orientation for his first day of high school (woohoo!). I was excited to go, and I wasn’t viewing the early rise time as a burden at all.

Until the alarm went off.

I felt like I had been run over by a bulldozer. My neck was stiff (ankylosing spondylitis), my stomach felt like a brick (gastroparesis), and I was nauseated (gastroparesis and celiac). I was also hungry. Famished, actually, from not being able to eat enough the day before (gastroparesis).

I never know whether it’s better to eat when I’m starving and sick, or whether it would be better to just hold off until lunch. Because I struggle to keep my weight up, I usually opt for eating and suffering whatever consequences come my way. Especially in the mornings. Because if I don’t eat breakfast, my blood sugar is completely whacked for the rest of the day.

So, I ate my little six ounces of homemade yogurt sweetened with honey, took a shower, got dressed, and took Andrew to school.

As we rode down the dusty, country road, my stomach began to churn even more, and I was prepared to roll down the window for a good hurl at any second, but alas …. the yogurt stayed put.

We arrived ten minutes early, and ended up waiting in line for a half hour before they opened the doors. Once we were in, there were various tables set up. One to get your activity pass, one to get your schedule, etc. When we got to the table for picture registration, they asked what our student ID# was. Turns out Andrew didn’t have a student ID, because ….. he wasn’t registered. Nowhere in the system.

No shock to me, since I had tried to turn in his registration paperwork TWICE, but was turned away, and told I should bring it in on orientation day.

Gotta love good communication!

By this time, I had been standing in line for about an hour. My calves felt like there wasn’t any circulation in them, I was still feeling like spewing yogurt, and I just wanted a blankie and a pillwoe.

But the registration desk beckoned us, so instead of curling up on a bench, we began the registration process.

Ahhhhhhh ……… a chair to sit in.

I plopped my little hiney in it, and my whole body felt asleep … super duper relaxed, like I hadn’t sat for at least three months.

But my mind remained awake.

At least I think it was awake ….

The counselor was talking to me, and I remember staring blankly at his mouth, hearing words, but not really understanding very well. I’m positive I had that “staring into space” look. A little black brain cloud was hovering over me, and I couldn’t seem to snap out of it. Somehow, I managed to get through the first part of the conversation, which was mainly “What’s your son’s name? Where did he go to school prior to coming here?” etc.

At least I think that’s all he asked ….

The counselor stepped out of the room for a bit, and that’s when the real wave of nausea hit me. I looked around for a trash can, just in case. I mean, the guy had an awesome Mac computer sitting directly in front of me.

It was sparkling white.

And I was determined not to upchuck on it.

I finally spotted a trash can, and the counselor came back in with lots of info on various available classes, etc.

While he talked, my stomach began to burn, my whole body felt numb, and my heart felt fluttery. I was so green I looked like the Grinch’s sister. I recognized the feeling as what happens before I have an “episode” as we call them now. They usually only lasts a few minutes, and they vary in degree. They only happen when I’m extremely tired, or have ingested something that my stomach cannot handle.

I have learned that the only thing I can do once I get this sick is to pray – and to remind myself that I lived through all of my other “episodes” (which helps me not to panic). I pray that I will be able to get through whatever situation I’m in at the time of the current “episode” because I always feel really embarrassed if I have to put my head between my knees, throw up in a trash can, or explain that my ticker is beating a million miles an hour and I need a minute.

It’s a pride thing.

The “episode” lasted for about five minutes. It was definitely a mild one, but it left me feeling even more fatigued. But somehow, by the grace of God, I answered all of that man’s questions and Andrew is completely registered for high school. His picture is taken, he has a student ID, and next Thursday will be his first official day of school.

Once we got home, I was pretty hungry. And tired.

I did mention I was tired … right?

So I made myself some lunch (made Andrew fix his own), and started answering emails and goofing on Facebook while I ate. The afore mentioned little black brain cloud disappeared for about ten minutes, and then it came back. Only this time it was not so little – and blacker than black.

I shut off the computer, put my dishes away, and went to bed.

I slept for two. hours.

When I woke up, I felt somewhat more rested but I am nowhere near a reasonable level of energy.

Do you know what this means?

It means we are having tuna sandwiches for dinner. And it means that the dishes that are leftover from yesterday (because I was too tired to deal with them) will quite possibly be left until tomorrow morning. It means that my husband and my kids will likely be a little more sanctified by the time I recuperate (as will I). And it means that I will sense God’s presence and grace in a way that I don’t normally sense on my more energetic days.

And really, in light of eternity, what does it really mean? If our whole lives are but a vapor, what have the last three days been?

Small. That’s what.

So small I’m not sure they’re even measurable.

Significant, yes. But small.

Significant, because the way I respond to adversity is always important in light of eternity. But small, in the fact that once I have passed from this life to the next, it won’t mean diddly squat. I’ll have an eternity of living and loving and laughing to do with Jesus and loved ones who have gone before me (Grandma, Grandpa, and Jeanine, I can’t wait to see you!).

So for now, I hereby resign myself to suffer quietly and submissively. Yes, I will ask that tomorrow be different. I will ask for strength to better take care of my family.

But if it’s not granted, it doesn’t change anything of significance …

…. except the size of my laundry pile.

In knitting, we use the terms cast on, cast off.

And then there’s the famous “wax on, wax off” instruction, given to “Danielson” by Mr. Miyagi. (Yes, I am old enough to quote that 1984 film!)

But in Scripture, we are told to put on, put off.

Put off your evil behavior, and put on another, Christ-like behavior. Ephesians 4:22 says:

that you put off, concerning your former conduct, the old man which grows corrupt according to the deceitful lusts, ²³ and be renewed in the spirit of your mind, ²⁴ and that you put on the new man which was created according to God, in true righteousness and holiness. (Emphasis mine)

Yes, we are to put off evil conduct.

But the question is – do we ever put on the more godly conduct?

For example, when we stop nagging our husband, do we then fail to verbally appreciate him when he remembers to not leave his stinky socks on the living room floor? Or do we mumble under our breath … Sheesh! It’s about time!

What about when he saves money by changing the oil in the car by himself, or fixing the sink without calling a plumber? Do you thank him, or just let it slide?

Do we stop our angry outbursts toward our kids for their filthy room, unfinished homework, or laziness, and then fail to appreciate them verbally when they improve in these areas?

We can stop one behavior, but never replace it with something better. In other words … we can put off, but fail to put on. I personally think it’s much harder to put on than it is to put off. And honestly, this is a fairly new concept for me.

Maybe not a new concept, but a new conviction.

I’ve recognized that I’ve put off a lot of things …  stayed in the lines … played by the “rules.” Whatever you want to call it. But what good is that if I’ve failed to put on better, more godly traits?

Think of it as being spiritually naked … like taking off dirty clothes, and never putting on clean ones. When you put off, you’re not wearing anything. You’ve stopped wearing the dirty clothes, but you still have a need to get dressed.  Dressed in the righteousness and holiness that Ephesians 4 talks about.

So next time you put off, remember that you are naked. For goodness sake, put some clothes on! 

How will you do that?

By renewing your mind and asking God to help you.

But remember – renewing and asking are only the first steps to getting dressed. They’re choosing what to wear. After you and God have decided what you should wear …. get dressed .

Simple instruction.

Difficult to implement.

Well worth it in the end.

If you don’t believe me, just ask your husband or kids.