Sunday, November 2, 2014

And he's probably tall, rich and handsome now

Today I arrived a little after 11:00 for a ladies lunch - at a lovely house overlooking the country club.  But I didn't get to go in because I rang the doorbell once.  Then again and then maybe a hundred times more for about 2 minutes till I gave up.  And I looked in my friend's beautiful glass front door at all her pretty things, but saw no one.  And I tried to remember if I was really supposed to be there for lunch today.  Or was it a different day?  Or maybe it was today but I got the time wrong.  

So I drove around and came back about 10 minutes later as to be fashionably late.  Still no cars in the drive.  So I left a note on the door telling my friend that her house looked lovely from the porch, how I wished I could get in, and darn if I wasn't confused.  Then as desperate as I was not to be rude, I drove away again and sat in the Whole Foods parking lot for another 10 minutes, determined to eat salad with the ladies who lunch ... and then made my third drive by.  Right along with the Dallas police car that was probably looking for me because it was, after all, the country club, and I kept slowly driving by like a would be burglar.  A would be burglar in a gorgeous orange dress and with flashy new low - lights in my hair. Which maybe all burglars in that neighborhood dress like.  I don't really know.  But I eventually gave up and ended up in a place called the Truck Yard with my husband... which was no country club affair...but good, too.

And while sitting outside there in my lawn chair listening to a catchy country song, I got a text from my friend asking me if I was ever coming over for lunch.  And I told her how desperately I had tried  - and to go check her mailbox for my note for proof of my thousand attempts. 

But then I had this really weird unsettling Kristi like doubt.  That maybe.... maybe all my lady friends were already in there in the loveliness, drinking mimosas and looking out the window at my confusion.   And maybe they planned this get together like the one from the movie Carrie... where Carrie gets all fooled into thinking she's Prom Queen when really all the mean girls have plans to pour pig blood all over her.   And would my friends really pour pig blood all over me in the loveliness of the neighborhood on a gorgeous fall day?  Absolutely not.  Because we're 100% classy ladies.  But it's too close to Halloween not to see the similarities between me and outcast Carrie.  Who was just weird and wanted to be accepted.  And let in.  See the similarities? 
But all this made me think of something I just told my husband the other day.  When I received a Facebook friend request from a high school acquaintance.  And I looked at this guy and tried to decide if he was who I thought maybe he was.  Was he that kid that had a little crush on the high school Kristi of yesteryear?  The one who was carrying a torch for an older woman?  An older woman who did him wrong.  

And though I wasn't the meanest mean person in the game, I played along by allowing meanness to happen.  By looking the other way and not saying no -   because I really knew the right thing to do.  But I didn't do it - just like the watchers in the Carrie movie who let the blood pour all over the dance floor and never said a word.  Shame on them and me.  I let other kids in my class write a little love note to that poor boy asking him to meet me at so and so place, at such and such time  - and if he showed up? We would know our true devotion to one another.  Or something like that.   I shudder to think. 

Anyway, the time for pig's blood rolled around, the kid headed to the meeting spot, and ... no Kristi.  And there was never gonna be a Kristi in that situation.  Because I'm an awful person.  And he's probably tall, rich and handsome now. 

Because back then, I wasn't the person that I am now.  And on that particular day and probably more that will need to come out in therapy at some point, I wasn't the person I knew I should be.  And that I knew I could be.  And on a good day I may maintain a 80-90% ranking of balancing right vs. wrong.  

But lucky for me, and by God's amazing grace, I'm still a work in progress - and can look back on my life and categorize events as not worth repeating, do overs, and dear God please help me forget.  All mixed in with a good dose of luck and plenty of things that turned out right.  Thanks be to God.    

And I love the thought of becoming... not only in the sense that our attitudes and actions either are or aren't becoming on us in the eyes of others - and to the God who is the ultimate spectator of all our events.  But that we are becoming the end product that has been intended all along when we allow ourselves to be made into something new and better with time.  And the most beautiful thought of all to me is how we are always able to become more in his presence and infinite patience.  Even those of us that sometimes need a do-over or two.  

And as husband pointed out to me in one of my down and out parenting moments of late, neither will our kids remain who they are today.   They, too, are becoming who they are intended to be and learning and making mistakes along the way. 

Just like I did.  

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