A Little Overwhelm

Why oh why do I wait until the last minute to prepare our taxes? It's not as if April 15 is a surprise, that it suddenly arrives a month earlier than expected. It's not as if I'm playing outside during the bleak months of January and February. I shamefully procrastinate year after year, then crazily double check inventories, try to decipher strange accounting entries I made over a year ago and scramble through my "piles" of paperwork looking for stray forms and letters--all for our business, which operates in three (count 'em -- THREE) states.

Ack!

This year has been slightly more hectic because I co-taught Katie's Confirmation class and Confirmation occurred a mere 5 days before tax day. I also volunteered to co-organize the track meet concession stands at the three home track meets in order to raise money for Katie's class trip next year--the first meet was held April 6.

April 6, April 10, April 15--all those countdowns coincided.

In addition to that, yesterday Hannah stuck something in her ear...AGAIN. My blog posts have been so sparse that I have failed to record the ear odyssey: this is the fourth time this school year that Hannah has shoved something so far into her right ear that I've had to take her to the doctor to remove it. One of those times the local doc couldn't grasp the smooth, round popcorn kernel and I had to take her to her ENT pediatrician, who used a special tool (with a special price) to suck it out. Is it strange to be thankful that the current occupant of her ear appears rough and rock-like? Yesterday her nostrils were blue as was the snot running out of them, apparently a result of blue M&Ms. At least they melt.

Wait. There's more. I pulled a crown off of my back molar while eating a caramel Friday. I broke a weak tooth a couple of months ago as a result of caramel. Evidently failure to learn lessons is a weakness in my family--Hannah won't keep foreign objects out of her ear and I don't keep caramel out of my mouth.

Today I need to (want to) drive to Commerce, Oklahoma to watch Katie run the mile and half mile in her first-ever track meet, before that I need to drive 20 miles in the opposite direction to refill a prescription, I need to schedule an appointment to remove the rock from Hannah's ear, I need to get organized so I can complete taxes, I need to...I need to...

breathe.

If Moms Wrote the Torah

As I did my Bible study this morning, I concluded that the Bible would be much shorter and the Old Testament Law much simpler if God would have used a mother of 8-10 small children (or a mother of any number of children that included a Hannah Savannah) to document its first five books (the Torah) instead of Moses. Why? I'm glad you asked.

I've been taking part in a Bible study that walks through the storyline of salvation history. After Adam and Eve; Noah; Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; and Moses and the Israelites' crossing of the Red Sea and worshipping the golden calf and receiving the Ten Commandments; God called Moses to build a Dwelling for Him, which was basically a tent for the Holy of Holies surrounded by a (roughly) 150-foot by 75-foot Court created with linen walls. The directions for building the Court and the Tent and what to place in it were specific. Mind-numbingly specific.

Upon completion, I imagined the Dwelling--a clean, orderly, serene home for the Lord. He gave everything in it a specific place; you know, "a place for everything and everything in its place." They even had special bowls for washing their feet before entering (which seemed somewhat useless given the fact that they were in the sandy desert with sandy floors.) Surrounding the Dwelling was the cacophany of the twelve tribes of Israel: 603,550 men of military age, 22,000 Levite men over one month old, and their famililes. Oh, the noise!

Of course, I have a very 21st century, Americanized view of the Dwelling. Yes, they slaughtered several animals there in sacrifice to the Lord--a few here and a few there--but I still picture it as a quiet place set apart, a serene setting away from the nearly one million people outside, people who badgered Moses as their leader and justice of the peace and complained every step of the way. I prefer not to picture the bloodshed at this point, so allow me that. OK?

Once everything was in its place, the priests were ordained, each tribe was camped in the location given by the Lord and a cencus was taken, the Prince of each tribe brought an offering to the Dwelling. I'm not talking about a few shekels of silver or some pretty fabric. In all over a twelve-day period, the twelve tribes provided 252 animals--rams, oxen, goat, you name it. Two hundred and fifty-two animals in one place. Can you picture that? The smell. The bleating. The mooing. The dust. All in an area smaller than a football field, an area heretofore peaceful, mostly clean and orderly.

So how does this relate to my original question? Immediately after all those animals entered the dwelling, the Bible reads, "When Moses entered the meeting tent to speak with him, he heard the voice addressing him from above the propitiatory on the ark of the commandments, from between the two cherubim; and it spoke to him..."

Dot. Dot. Dot. The elipses aren't mine, they're actually in the Bible. After all the tedious details Moses previously documented, it seems he can't recall something as sublime as the Lord's words. And its no wonder--look at the mess and the chaos surrounding him.

Some days that's how I feel: surrounded by pandemonium, neverending noise, and disarray. I couldn't put together a lucid statement, can't remember why I entered a room and certainly can't commit the voice of God to memory, no matter how sublime. Many days look like this:

God: My daughter, today I ask you to...

Child: Mom! Hannah made a milk mess!

God: ...and remember to...

Child: Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. MOM! There's a wet spot on the couch where Hannah was sitting!

God: ...and go in peace, my child.

Child: MOM! Hannah's driving your chair down the sidewalk!

It's no wonder Moses didn't write the Lord's words that day. For moms, it would have been just another day in paradise, with fewer words, less documentation and more, much more, well...unwritten, unrecognized more.