Paris

I said to my mom and then, also, to a good friend, that I was going to run away--all by myself--to Paris, France. I don't know why I said Paris because that's never been a bucket list stop for me. Maybe I said Paris because people could spend a year trying to find me in Paris when, really, I was in New York all along just watching a crap ton of plays, eating cheesecake from Junior's, and cupcakes from Magnolia. So what I'm saying is that if I go missing, DON'T LOOK FOR ME IN ANY THEATRES OR BAKERIES IN NYC.

When Garrett was a toddler and he got head lice, I wanted to quit being a mom for a minute or two. Just long enough for my replacement to clean up his scalp and do all the laundry. But since then I haven't wanted to duck out on my responsibilities.

But right now. World, the flu has been swirling around the toilets of this house for a straight week and I am over it. It isn't just the stomach flu though. It's not just the fact that someone in this house has been throwing up or thinking they're going to throw up or having excessive poop for seven entire days. That's disgusting and I kind of want to just burn the house to the ground and start over again. But I'm also just really, really exhausted from lives falling apart around me.

The really great thing about the fact that no one ever reads my blog anymore (which probably has a lot to do with the fact that no one ever writes anything on this blog anymore) is that all the lives in turmoil around me are not lives who frequent this particular writing space, ever. So when I say that a marriage is in shambles (not mine) or that a mother is dying (not mine) or that a husband is a wreck and his wife is in distress over it (not mine, not me), no one is going to look at that say, "Oh, man, she wrote about me on her blog that no one reads."

I am so incredibly blessed to be able to speak into people's lives.

And maybe that is the takeaway. I thought about writing that I am tired of crises and that if one more friend tells me one more awful thing that I cannot fix but will want to, I will just hop on the nearest plane and fly to "Paris" so that I can escape the doom and destruction and difficulty. Because I can pray and that is of utmost importance but, also, I am a pretty positive and upbeat person who just wants to stick my hands in things and put pressure on that bleeding organ until someone can stitch it closed. And when I can't fix it, sometimes, the terrible and evil side of me just wants to yell, "Stop hurting!" When I know just as well as anyone that we don't just stop hurting and a lot of times we have to walk over those hot coals and those shards of glass barefoot. We have to put in the work and we need people to walk beside us while we do it. We don't need people to run away to "Paris" never to be seen again.

I am so incredibly blessed to be able to speak into people's lives. That is what God just told me while I prepared to dump my own frustration and pain and WHY onto a blog I haven't updated in almost a month. He has put me right here, right now, to be a safe space for people to ask for prayer. A safe place for people to cry. A safe place for people to share their hearts.

Yesterday, a friend in my life said, "I don't know what overcame me but I just saw you and I thought I've got to go and see Lori!" She did. And I saw her crying and I just wrapped my arms around her. I've never hugged her before. Ever. But I just knew that was the thing to do. Because I have Jesus and He loves me. And if I can wrap that love around another person who is hurting, I will.

But there are moments...

Moments when I think, I just need a few days in "Paris" to get away from the diarrhea and the vomit and broken hearts.

Pray for your Pastor's Wife. And pray for me. I need prayer for my own self--so that I can pour the love of Jesus into others.