10 Days

Sometimes I feel that I aimlessly meander through the times given me between sleeping. I wake up (for the 5th or 6th or 7th, etc) time and realize that I can’t roll over and try to resume rest, but am required by the approaching daylight and daily demands to actually get out of bed. My best scenario would be a time in the Word and some prayer communicating and listening to the Lord immediately after putting my feet on the floor and some days that happens. Other days I hear the growling stomachs and move right into the kitchen to still the rising tide of hunger in the posterity. Most recently, the latter has been the norm. Of course I’m able to talk with the Lord as I cook, but it’s not the same as “sit down” time, focused and quiet.

Often I am able to read the Word of God after everyone leaves to their respective places, but interruptions lately have caused my morning time of focus on what God is saying to be scattered throughout the day--little snippets here and there. My set schedule succumbs to annihilation by the urgent as well as mundane. Many days in the past two weeks those who help me with the household duties have not been able to come to work due to sickness. Their absence demands that I set aside my plans. Thus, my desk sat idle for a full week--had I not covered the surface of it with an old sheet, the gecko poo would have completely “decorated” my thinking space. As it is, I think that’s a perfect illustration for how I view my brain’s ability to sort out thoughts of late anyway. 

Have you ever felt like there’s a lock on your cerebrum blocking all creative thought? Lay aside creativity even, let’s just try eking out a helpful or constructive verbal contribution to a situation! As a question is directed toward you, you try to formulate a response, but a densely packed fuzz seems to have clogged all synapses. For me, unfortunately, it seems that the only type of verbal manifestations able to squeeze through the snarled mass are biting and destructive. That’s a perfect description of the swirling chaos spewing from my person the majority of time these past ten days or so.

Men, avert your eyes--I’m going to mention PMS. Or, keep reading as you might be enlightened. Why is it that after 40 years of this I still can’t manage to remember that “it’s time” until after I’ve bitten off the heads of not just a few loved ones? A couple of years ago a fellow sufferer suggested I try the supplement “evening primrose oil.” I have a bottle of it. It probably works better if I actually swallow a capsule or two everyday. In a grand effort I finally moved the container into the kitchen next to the coffee making station, hoping that one necessity would remind me of the other. So far, consumption is up to 80% which is better than the 20% of previous months! But, is that my best answer?

What really is going on here is my ability to be “quick to listen” to God being shoved aside as I jump headstrong into a situation unarmed with His take on the milieu. I am reminded of the admonition of James, “Know this, let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger, for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.”

Every month the mire of hormones twists my perspective and causes the insignificant to loom gargantuan. I don’t want that to happen, but it does. Romans 7 comes to mind, “For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing.” Regardless of where I am in the world when the “time” arrives, I am caught off guard and find myself consumed with a total inability to think straight. Being a foreigner in the strain of another culture I could easily blame my sin on the stress of where I live. But, that’s not the truth. Even in southern California, my “comfort culture,” I was ugly every 28 days. 

So, what’s my recourse? At present, I am endeavoring to put the Word on it. Now, before my fellow sufferers shut me down at what may seem to be a pat answer, listen. Be quick to listen, no matter how difficult. I have come to terms with the reality that I don’t give God enough time to truly speak to me and guide me through the tumultuous hormonal fluctuations each month. Every 24-28 days, I begin that downward spiral and fail to reach upward toward the gentle, yet powerful, still and peaceful voice of Him who created me, hormones and all. What if I marked the days and began a more intense push toward Him around day 20 or so?

I admit that it is extremely difficult to remember to listen when my immediate view seems so very significant and demanding of a curt response. But, and I’m still working on this, I at least need to put forth some effort to stop raging forward and listen to what He’s saying. Maybe it will simply be, “THAT thing you see in front of you is not so important right now, walk away,” or “THAT person with whom you are frustrated is My creation and deserving of a kind and gentle response, so speak with love” or “Remember the instruction I gave you this morning, now is the time to walk in it.” The Biblical book of James says it so well, “If any of you needs wisdom, ask God who gives generously to all without expressing disapproval, and it will be given.”

What I’ve said here might frustrate some of you, but for me I’m going to give it a whirl. Not that I see God as just another option in a sea of methods to curb a bad attitude, but I truly regard Him as the author of my life--all of it. Why NOT humbly lower my own seemingly crucial attitudes and receive His ways? After all, He is the creator and I am His creation. He most definitely knows how best I function.