I was sitting in the center of the auditorium, ready for our monthly department devotional to begin. My leggings were still inside out, just like they were yesterday, and just as they were when I slept in them last night. I spent the night at Jessica's house, and this morning I just switched my little black dress, that also doubled as a nightgown, to a different little black dress. Second-day bedhead curls. Ready to go. I'm all about time-efficient beauty.
Last night, Jessica and I sat curled up on her couch talking about the rise of women possibly spawning male insecurity and weakening male/female relationships. And I overdosed on Australian candy, mostly because my nerves were so high. I have a Big Proposal today. Like, Big. And then I tossed and turned all night long, dreaming about three kids who lost their parents in a water skiing accident so I stepped in to be their caretaker.
So there I sat in the auditorium, staring forward at a handful of Managing Directors on the stage who I would be meeting with in only a few short hours, all in big-deal suits and shiny shoes, while I had a lump of sugar in my stomach, heavy eyelids, and three illusory children.
The meeting was about the talents and impact of different division teams. It was inspiring to see how much talent is hidden among human hands. But then, somehow, my mind became completely derailed and went off on its own little devotional journeys. I'll post one thought string now.
Feeling "safe" is such an implicit part of a human experience that no one ever stops to think about it. Except maybe in a dark alleyway. Though I don't speak of safety in the stark physical sense. But in a deepened sense that your soul - your position as a vulnerable human being - is cared for, wanted, and safe. That is an embedded subconscious feeling, so one's conscious mind has no reason to think about it. But mine does.
I always picture a person standing alone against an oncoming army. The attackers representing a life challenge or undue cause of pain or maybe literal threatening people. And as the person stands alone, bearing life at the full weight, completely exposed to the danger, one person steps onto the battle field behind them. Then another. Then another. All coming forward to gather round this person, creating a fortifying wall of defense. Barriers of safety. An army of my own - all for me.
While the meeting was going on around me, with people snoring on all sides, I pulled out my phone to text two specific people in "my army." As my head was bent down texting, tears welled up in my eyes and dropped onto my glasses, and by the time I was finished, I took my glasses off and dumped the water on the floor. Ha! And then the closing song (because we sing at our meetings....) filled me with so much love from my Father in Heaven, saying He was also in my army, that I couldn't even sing. I just subtly tried to clean the snot off my face.
Grateful for my safe army. And my easily impressionable mind.
Little daydreamer. Upward and onward,