There, right there sitting on the driver seat of my car set a horrific creature. A grasshopper! Don’t give me “oh that’s nothing!” For someone raised in the city. Someone with city sensibility and consciousness; it is a very big deal. They hop and they are quick. Which places them in a category of just one more thing I can’t control. Unless I can kill it before it jumps.
I stealthy approach it, my walking stick extended and “whack!” Nothing. No attempts to evade my stick. My aim so suspect that I’m not sure I ever hit it. Nothing looks smashed. So I try again. This time hitting it or forcing it to hop I am not sure. It now lay sheltered between the metal of my seat’s floor brackets.
Is it dead? Must be I tell myself. But I can’t force my mind to accept this assumption. I can not sit in the seat and drive away. So I keep trying to poke my tormentor from its hiding place. And though it appears to be on its back, I am not convinced. Just as suddenly it hops high into the air. Clearing my seat, my car door and me in one jump. I jump into my car, slam shut my door and drive away.
Truly these are the moments of my days. Should I laugh or cry? Is it more silly than threatening? Probably depends on what personality I am channeling at that time. The Kansas/Coloradoan or the Ozark-ed Missourian. Whichever sensibility is forefront, I want to maintain my joy. I want to always find the humor in being human. In being me!
Like sitting across from my home health aid whom I have learned will pick her nose almost unconsciously if she is not the one talking. So, I am learning the art of allowing another person to verbally ramble. If it will keep you from rolling dried mucus between your figures and dropping it sneakily upon my floor. Than speak child! Just let the Lord use you!
Just the other day I lifted my eyes upward while finishing my statement and caught her finger just entering her nose! And she froze. Finger hanging at the entrance. There is enough mischievousness in my soul that I held her gaze, her finger locked in that pose for as long as I could. My lips animated in some mundane conversation. I was both repulsed and wracked with laughter within. Only an adult would think their behavior is invisible.
What I like about little children is their ability to own their repulsiveness. With honesty and laughter. A little kid would have plopped a mucus beauty out and proceed to show me their prize. Howling with laughter the whole time I “icked-out!”
She reminded me of the times my little people have fallen asleep while eating their lunch. Little heads drooped over in defeat. Shallow breathing inhaling through cold noodles and congealed spaghetti sauce. Little people don’t care. The nap is on! Pick me up and lay me down. Clean my spaghetti covered face or leave me in my high chair. I don’t care until my nap is over!
Adults will yank awake and begin to lie. “Un huh! I wasn’t sleeping! I was just trying to eat my noodles without a fork!”
I say being human is more funny than sad. Yank your head up so quickly that cold spaghetti gets slung over on the person closest to you. Then laugh with abandonment. I’m going to try to keep my car free of grasshoppers, but when I don’t I’m going to giggle with joy. I can be human I am agape loved and that covers my imperfections.