Reeking, wreaking, wrecked
It’s Tuesday and my fridge is getting rather skosh on supplies.
I mean, sure…if you dig pickled hot pepper ring sandwiches with blackberry jelly on last week’s bread, you’re gonna get by just fine. But if you want a solid entree with a couple of sides, maybe a salad, you might have to get really loose with how you define “entree” and “sides”. Or for that matter, “salad”.
Didn’t change the fact that I needed to throw together a dinner tonight for Mr. Sparky before he headed off to play rehearsal.
Did I mention Mr. Sparky has a role in the local community theatre production of The Odd Couple, female version? There are only two male roles, and he’s got one. So most evenings he’s off being all theatrical and stuff.
I stood and stared at the contents of the fridge for a moment before I realized I had one package of fresh fettuccini noodles in there. Ok…I can work with that. Shrimp from the freezer, olive oil, enough garlic to knock a cowboy off a horse, some lemon, some seasoning…
Oh yeah. Good stuff.
But guess what my house smells like now?
My living room is full of forlorn horses, stepping over their knocked-out cowboys on the floor. And I don’t even want to know what Mr. Sparky’s production set looked like when he breathed out his lines. I have to wonder if any of the cast were left standing.
I lit a Yankee Candle tart. It was a fresh disc of “Island Spa.” Doesn’t that sound delightful?
From the smell of things now, that island was somewhere in the south of Italy, and that spa is probably most often frequented by dark and furry men who really love their Nonna’s cooking.
Believe it or not, I’m actually ok with that.
The thing is, there is no question what we consumed tonight. No number of floofy scented candles can cover up what’s floating through the air in my house.
I want my entire life to be like that. I want it to reflect what I consume, and what consumes me. I want my atmosphere to be thick with it.
I want to carry the presence of God, which invites the power of God. His presence changes atmospheres.
Let me be swift to admit that my atmosphere is the first one that needs changed. I have to be transformed before I can be a transformer. And though I can look back and see that I’ve come a long way, I still have a long way to go.
Should the fire ever go out in me, it will be because I failed to keep piling the flammable stuff onto the altar.
Heaven knows I have no shortage of things to burn.