Light My Fire

God (In Me) has quite a twisted sense of humor. Tonight, stepdaughter #2 had a choral concert at her high school. Stepdaughter #4 had a teacher conference at the middle school. Stepdaughter #3 had a dinner date with her stepmom (me), and stepdaughter #1 was AWOL. (Well—only technically. She’s in college and even though she goes to University of Denver, just a couple of miles away, our mandate is to pretend she’s out of state somewhere. I’m sure she was rehearsing for the big show that she’s starring in next weekend.) And no, we haven’t come to the funny part yet. Aren’t you relieved to know that?!

Soooooo, Rick heads off to meet #4 and her mother at the teacher conference, leaving #3 with me. She and I decide a burrito bowl at Chipotle is what we’re in the mood for, so we stop and dine on our way to the concert, leaving in time to save a seat in the back for Rick so he can meet us as soon as he is sprung from the conference. All went according to plan, and the concert was relatively succinct, considering there were 4 different choirs performing. Let me put that in personal terms: there were 3 groups singing that did not have a Hamrick girl in them. Stepdaughter #3 was in the last choir to sing. While I wouldn’t likely go if there weren’t a stepchild to support, it’s nice to sit and soak in the energy and sweet sounds of those young voices. (I know you’re still waiting for the funny part—I’m getting there—and just so you won’t be disappointed, it’s not that funny!)

About halfway through #2’s choir performance, I start thinking about how I turned the broiler of the toaster oven on to melt the cheese on my cheese toast I had for a very late lunch. I start wondering if I successfully turned it off. We have a new toaster oven that the girls gave us for Christmas—heaven knows we needed one—and it has some controls that I’m not yet completely used to. So I’m worrying. I have a tiny little touch of OCD sometimes, and once in awhile, I can be a bit obsessive unless I’m really firm with myself. Did the toaster oven catch the house on fire? Are the puppies okay or…? Oh no oh no oh no oh no!

“JULIA!” Get a grip!” I tell myself. I manage to wrestle my attention away from the fear thoughts, but they find their way back again. And again. So, at last, the concert is over, we wait for #2 so we can tell her how great it was, hug her goodnight, as well as #s 3 and 4, and set off for our cars. I get in, and the fear thoughts start up again. “DO NOT FEED THE FEAR, Julia!” So I turn on the radio for a distraction. What is on? The Doors, doing their greatest hit, “Light My Fire.” (That was the funny part. Okay—not all that funny, but isn’t God a wise guy sometimes?!) I did guffaw.

I was relieved not to see the sky orange over our house as I turned onto our street. Of course, all was well.

The radio station I was tuned to— 99.5 “The Mountain,” in Denver—has DJs that actually know some fascinating things about music and the musicians (they play mostly 60s and 70s rock). I get the impression that a lot of them smoked dope with the musicians back in the day...Anyway, the DJ tonight said that Jim Morrison was big into shamanism and would go into a shamanic trance for performances. I thought that was pretty interesting. But sheesh—there I am looking for some distraction from worrying that I might have started a fire, and what do I get?! I think there’s a message there, and I might even know what it is—I just need to chew on it awhile. Maybe it’s “don’t deny your fears, embrace them and transform them.” Or, perhaps it’s “rise above your fear” instead of pushing it away. Maybe. We’ll see! I'm sure if I were at a higher frequency, I would have been filled with confidence and faith in my Spirit, and fear wouldn't have even had a foothold. (I’m also pretty sure I could tell YOU just how to respond to such an obsessive episode, but you know how it is when it’s your own stuff—something about forests and trees…)