This door mat does two things. It's at the kitchen sink keeping my feet dry when power washing through my dishes, and it hides the spilled hookah pipe burns that somebody trailed across the floor. I like it.
But it's a mess to clean under every Monday, so I usually avoid looking too closely until something really ugly finds its way down there, or guests are expected.
My mantra over big spills is, 'must be God's opinion that I should finally mop in here!' But the other day, that old furious cursing which began mysteriously at recess one day in the 4th grade, popped out from hiding, and beat my mantra to a pulp before I think to wax philosophical and resign myself to another calamity clean-up.
It was a quiet blurt, kept under my breath for the better part of 40 years, hidden from good Baptists and children. . . G-- D---It rang out as I tried to balance a newspaper, purse and mail pile while holding a full mug. Tepid coffee splattered down my pant leg and foot, then spread along under my hearty sink mat.
D1 and DH didn't even wince, so I swabbed away, pretending I didn't care that they just heard what I just heard.
But privately, all I could think of was Alice.
Two days prior, she reminded our Bible Club kids what a sinful, horrid thing it is to use The LORD's name this way, and that people who do are so utterly lost. {"...for the LORD will not hold anyone guiltless who misuses His name." Ex 20:7}
WAIT! THAT'S me she's talking about. I ... really... need... to...
I really need to do a cussing study, and quick. Either we teach the kids that legalism is not our friend, or I have to quit going to Bible Club.
I mean, after 40 years, why would this hidden little curse of mine suddenly resurface?
Alison G. told me to find a Deliverance Service. Something about demonic oppression. WELL. I don't doubt that!
But at least I have a spotless sink mat and my hookah burns don't show.
While I don't dispute there's something evil lurking just under the surface of my soul, I'm not sure we don't all suffer from it equally. It's called original sin. It's just that my will to do battle against it has flagged lately... been fighting with Hubby for (counts fingers...) @ 19 days. . .
Scratching my head. I recall the same thing happened last Halloween Week. And that one week when I had planned a neighborhood Bible Club for the squirrley boys? My mouth went haywire then, too. (My DEAR. Your mouth is always haywire. Really.)
Let's do an experiment: let's move to a nice street where the house next door doesn't have a yard-full of death-on-display for three full weeks, and see if I don't have a clean mouth by Halloween.
I LOVE SCIENCE. When can I start packing?
[And I love my dear neighbors; but wonder how I switched from boycotting Halloween to becoming a Boo-Booster without FIRST besting my demons.]
(AND P.S. - u were drinking tea, not that demon coffee)
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