The Unknown Zone

Today they did an upper scope on Dave; I’m glad to report, it’s nothing Prilosec can’t fix—that is, his Crohn’s hasn’t ventured upward.


It was that dreaded “Unknown Zone”—I hate it.  You know, God’s Waiting Room: waiting for test results, driving frantically back to the store to find your wallet, stuff like that.  No control over anything, just sweating while you wait for the bomb to drop.  My theory is that God plants these little mysteries here and there to help us keep ourselves in check.  For monitoring where we are spiritually, there’s nothing like hearing this on your answering machine:  “Hello, this is Miss __, your son’s teacher.  We’d like you to come in tomorrow.  The principal can see you at 3.”
The Unknown Zone is where I’m vulnerable to attack.  Heart attack.  Not kidding, I go from Zero to 60 in 60 seconds.  Today, on the way to the hospital, I missed a turn.  FREAK OUT!!

What’s heinous about all this is my lack of faith.  God has not lost control of things; He’s on it.  Whatever the outcome, it’s His doing, and He’s working it out for my good.  I need to chill.  But it’s hard for me, with my little mustard seed.  On that winding road past my turnoff today, wanting to rationalize my hysteria, I blathered a string of excuses to my daughter (riding shotgun):  “I’m emotional … hormonal…” – I finally resorted to dissing the one who’d given me directions.

Man.  The Unknown Zone is unpleasant enough without Momma having a conniption behind the wheel of a speeding car.   The way I was blubbering, you’d think there’d been a death in the family.

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