I wonder if, when God was creating me, He spent a lot of time chuckling. Because I'm pretty sure I should have been a lot taller, and sometimes I really think I should have been a guy.
The other day I was driving down one of these country roads and an old farmer was pulled over to the side. He was towing something behind his big ole pickup truck and the load had obviously shifted. So, he was out there working on tightening up the tension on the load so that he could get where he was going without dumping it. Now, my greatest desire at that moment was to help him. But, 1) he wouldn't have let me because I'm a girl, 2) I wouldn't have stopped because I'm a girl and smarter than that, you just never know these days and 3) I would have been useless because I had no idea what he needed. I can not tell you the number of times that I haven't stopped to help someone that could have used my help had I been male. But, I'm not - and so I drive on past hoping that someone else will. I really hate that I can't do what needs to be done.
It is no fun to have to make a decision NOT to help someone these days because you fear for your own safety. It's even less fun to have to make that decision because you're a female and would be useless in that situation.
Ok ... so there's one thing that I figure God chuckles about.
I bought some tab curtains for the cabin. It's absolutely time to get rid of the stupid frilly cafe things that were here from a previous administration. Egads - they don't match any type of Greenwood decorating. Anyway ... (they're in the trash now) ... I had to get up and down on the beds to maneuver to the curtain rods. Up and down, dealing with things that are WAY over my head. Then, trying to even out the tabs on the curtain rod, I realized that one of them was tucked in on itself. I tried using a pole to get it untucked. I was just lazy enough to not want to jump up on the bed because it had managed to get that way. All I need is 3-4 more inches ... but, no ... I'm short!
I've lived with being short ... well ... all my life. Ok, fine, you'd think I'd be used to it by now. I'm not. I grouse about it all the time. When I was in high school, I dated a guy that was a full foot taller than me. I had to stand up on a step to be able to kiss him without a crick in my neck. It was a perpetual crick.
I can't reach anything on the top shelf without a step stool, I never see the top of the refrigerator, so I can guarantee that mine will always be dirty. We had a friend in our younger lives that was nearly 7 foot tall. When Delmar and his wife (who was shorter than me, by the way), Len came to the house, mom demanded that we get up on step stools to wipe the tops of the door frames and everything else that only he could see. That was the one time in the year that the top of the fridge was spotless.
There are cupboards in my kitchen that have absolutely nothing in them. There is no reason to use them, I'd forget what was there - I'll never see it. In fact, I doubt that I could reach into them even WITH a step stool.
With my short legs, I've never been able to jump from the floor up to a stage level floor to sit. When I was in high school, everyone else could just sort of leap up and land. I had to go around, up the stage steps and then sit down beside them. I HATE the high top stools in Old Chicago or Applebees or Panera. Why in the world do these places torture me? Everyone thinks it is a great idea to sit there? There's a reason they're empty and available. No one loves them. My friends though derive great amounts of entertainment watching me try to land myself in one of those chairs. It gets even more entertaining if I have to move.
So. I'm guessing there was a day long ago when God was putting my genetic plan together. He started molding me and making me. That twinkle and chuckle as He designed me was there, I'm just sure of it. When I meet Him face to face - there will be guffaws as I try to reach up and hug Him and He has to reach down to pick me up so that I can actually reach His neck!
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