Where's My Drink?

Something like a left behind fountain drink surely wouldn't bear a blog, much less a parting thought to the everyday person. At once, it something tedious, forgetful and absent-minded of which I have been described as committing or acting as such many times. For me tonight, it reminded me of something I had left in the past, and something more than just the extra calories of a Dr. Pepper.

You see, only three years ago, something as trivial as leaving a fountain drink at a fast food pizza buffet, a drink I had bought to save for later, would have been the final straw after a long day. It was another sign that I couldn't handle mundane tasks, responsibility, having the kids on my own. Little thoughts that tear a man down and stick thorns in his side. It starts with a forgotten phone on the nightstand, forgetting to copy something for work, missing a doctors appointment. One event piles upon another. Someone jokes about your "failing" mind, you laugh and wonder if there's some truth to the statement. Aren't jokes nothing more than truth rolled inside an insult. Eat it! Sarcastic people eat more, they dish more out. We all expose our flaws in some way, why not humorously?

So, on my way to Bible study class, I look over at my cup holder and realize the drink is not there. I flashed to the previous night. After packing my bag for my first night of my Masters class, I notice I brought the wrong white binder. I suddenly saw my first impression of myself towards my unseen professor one of some desperate teacher who signed up for the class late (I need the class to re-certify for my teacher's license, which, if you're understanding this blog so far, was overdue and close to expiring), now has forgotten it's notes and content. Back to that moment in a minute.

So I escort (rather, follow) the little ones (Cruz, 6, Reycina, 2) into the church sanctuary and into their respective classes and daycare. As I pass my class, I see my instructor, Chip, sitting alone. Where's the rest of the class? I remind my son not to run in, I slap an armband on his wrist and rush him in despite the pizza sauce stains on his cheeks.

I enter class, Chip looks as if he's packing up to leave, but we speak about the school day (he's a retired Reynoldsburg teacher), dive into the material and the book of Hebrews. We get to around the finishing point--all good things about "once saved, always saved," Catholic priests, Calvinism vs Arminianism--and I tell Chip about that annoying forgotten drink. I express how the last two weeks of school had been more caught up with meetings and feelings and drama instead of what God brought me there to do--to teach, to bring some understanding into a young kids' mind beyond the textbooks. I talked about wanting to just drive home after work, instead of heading to the park, to pizza dinner, to anything. And despite Chip's encouragement, I felt more guilty for complaining about being busy. We read Hebrews 12:1, which talks about being surrounded by a "cloud of great witnesses," cheering us on. How many people, seen or unseen, have been part of my "new" life, when I gave my life to the Lord? How many of my loved ones gasped at the thought, or shook their heads in disbelief? Who are my cheerleaders?

And remember that class of mine, where I left my binder? Well, it went fantastic. I listened, I took notes like a fiend and even worked out some new kinks for my current class the next day. God is good.

And that drink? Three years ago, it would have been the last straw. I would have pouted, driven home, probably gotten into a silly fight, doubted myself. Let the ice melt, like my old self.

Let it water down--undrinkable life!

I'm drinking something new anyways.