Warming the Bench

My favorite part of the week used to be the weekend ... I would look forward to Friday all week in anticipation of Saturday and Sunday. I had a routine for most of those weekends, a routine that much of the time involved shopping and cleaning and playing and walking and worshiping and serving. The only time I really varied from that routine was when I was traveling or speaking. My speaking schedule is always light from mid-December through February, partly because I try not to schedule many things during those months to give myself a break and partly because women's groups tend to plan their bigger events from March through mid-November. The last couple of months, though, there's been a big shift in my weekend routine ... I've been stopping at the grocery store on Friday evening as I head home from work and then I stay in as much as I can for the duration of the weekend. I get up on Saturday and feed the dogs and eat breakfast, do my laundry, try to make myself stay up until lunchtime, eat lunch, go to bed for the afternoon, get up and feed the dogs, eat dinner, stay up for a couple of hours to write a post for this blog, take a hot bath, and then go back to bed. I don't talk to anyone, I only leave the house if I absolutely have to, and I haven't even been taking Ollie the wiener dog for walks on the trail ... I think maybe I'm getting old, friends.

The winter in Kansas City this year has been very mild, and today was another clear blue sky, sunny, warm day with the temperature climbing to almost 60. I think Julie and Ollie got together this morning and collaborated on their plan of attack to get me outside, because while I was trying to eat lunch, they took turns climbing in my lap, pawing and licking me, and then running to the back door wagging their tails and barking. When I tried to get them to climb into bed with me and take a nap, they would have no part of it whatsoever. They continued their barking and combined their noise with racing back and forth through the house and jumping on and off my bed (and on top of me every time they would pounce on the bed). I finally gave in to their demands and got dressed and took them out into the yard to toss the Frisbee for Julie for a while. When she got tired and was ready to go inside, Ollie was just getting started and ran from me each time I tried to head him toward the door ... until I asked if he wanted to go for a walk. Then he came flying, wiener dog ears flapping in the wind, turning circles in the garage when I reached for his harness and leash.

Ollie was beyond thrilled to be out on the trail, and I didn't have much choice but to let him set our pace ... fast ... he was ready to rock and roll as soon as we left the garage. I haven't been walking as much as I used to, so by the time Ollie and I made our way toward home, I was tired and winded from trying to keep up with the wild wiener dog who was dragging me behind him. As we came upon the bench that sits along the trail next to the creek, I bent over and scooped Ollie into my arms telling him that we were going to sit and rest for a bit. He must have sensed that I needed to take a break because he sat patiently in my lap, occasionally turning around to lick my chin. Since it was such a nice day, there were a lot of people on the trail, and Ollie and I watched as several people rode, jogged or walked by. When a gal that I met on the trail back when J.R. and I would walk together said something to me, I was forced to acknowledge that God still lives on my trail ... even when I'm not on it, He still lives there.

"What are you doing sitting on the bench, girl? I don't know that I've ever seen you sitting ... you are always walking, not sitting on the sidelines. Your blood sugar OK?" I waved and assured her that I was fine, just tired and taking a break. As I sat there rubbing Ollie's back, I thought about what the woman had said to me about sitting on the sidelines ... I began to think about warming the bench. Remember a couple of posts ago when I wrote about all the sports I used to play? Well, here's the thing ... I was a good athlete, very good, in fact, and I rarely had to sit on the bench. When I did have to sit out of a game, it was usually because of my attitude and not my ability. The gal was correct in her assessment ... I've never been one to sit on the sidelines, to sit on a bench and watch other people play. And yet, here I am, on a bench, not playing in the game ... heck, I don't even know where the game is anymore.

Standing up to walk home, a prayer filled my heart and spilled from my lips as quickly as the tears poured from my eyes. I'm stuck on the bench, God ... no matter what I do or how hard I try, I can't find my way off the bench and back into the game. I'm tired of warming the bench, Lord, so very tired of warming the bench. As Ollie and I crossed the street to head to our house, I could feel God's arms of love around my aching heart ... I could hear His words of compassion in my soul ... I could sense His protection over my wounded mind.

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name. Great is our Lord and mighty in power; His understanding has no limit." Psalm 147: 4-5.