Last night I had Bible Study. I believe I have mentioned that my Bible Study Group is doing “Believing God” by Beth Moore this spring.
We are also looking for a more creative name for ourselves than Bible Study Group, although you have to admit it’s pretty catchy.
We are starting week three of the study, but since we fell behind due to excessive talking and sharing the week before, we listened to week two and week three last night. It was a lot to digest all in one sitting and frankly speaking, God kind of absolutely rocked my world. I was challenged, I was encouraged, I was moved beyond my understanding.
So, on the way home from Gulley’s house, I had myself some church in my car. I poured out my heart and all my shortcomings. I told God that I didn’t want it to be about me and my pride and my vanity and all those other things that I cling to for security. I let it all go.
Later in the night, Caroline got in bed with us. We all slept peacefully until about 3:00 a.m. when I made the unfortunate decision to get up and go to the bathroom. With that move, I disrupted the balance and equilibrium of the entire universe and Caroline could no longer sleep.
She spent the next three hours contemplating her existence and experimenting with various ways to completely drive me out of my mind while ensuring that I not be allowed to go back to sleep. And yes, I realize I could have put her back in her own bed and I threatened such action many, MANY times. However, I was too tired to go to all that effort.
Finally, at around 6 a.m. when P was getting out of bed, she and I finally fell asleep and slept until 9 a.m. Which was heavenly except for the fact that we had thirty minutes to get dressed and to gymnastics.
We were rushing around…actually I was rushing around while Caroline rode her scooter, said good morning to the dogs, dumped all her crayons out of the box to find the pink one, and then after the 184th time that I told her to get her leotard on, began to get dressed.
Once I had her moving in the right direction, I headed to the bathroom to try and make myself look decent. I had no time for makeup but decided to curl my eyelashes in a sad, feeble attempt to make myself look bright and impossibly fresh.
And that’s when it happened.
I will reflect on this moment for years to come, wondering where it all went wrong.
For some reason, while my eyelashes were in the grip of the curler, I turned my head. Now, I am not an eyelash curling rookie. I have been curling my lashes for lo these last twenty-three years. I have no excuse for my lapse in judgement.
Needless to say, I immediately felt some pain in my eyelash region and looked down to see a vast multitude of lashes in the sink and in my eyelash curler. And in the words uttered by a woman whom I have never met but whose story I immediately remembered, I said, “Y’all”.
I stood and stared at those eyelashes, willing them to reattach themselves to my now pink and slightly swollen eyelid. I think we all know how that turned out.
After a day spent assessing the damage, I believe I am missing about 1/4 of my eyelashes between the inner corner of my eye and the center of my eye. I can’t even bear to do a google search to find out how long it will take them to grow back.
Apparently, God took me seriously when I told Him I didn’t want it to be about my pride or my vanity. It’s hard to be proud or vain when you find yourself missing a 1/4 of your eyelashes.
And now if y’all will excuse me, I need to go shopping for some false eyelashes.