It's been a day. One of those days that included a few things that I would have preferred to never experience. One that included quality time with people that I adore, but in a setting that I could have done without. Sometimes, I think these sentences describe adulting. And for the record, adulting is hard work.
I have moments that I flashback to childhood and try to remember what it was like to not know things. I have moments where I struggle to remember that I am old enough to be the responsible party for my children, myself or for other adults that depend on me. I often startle myself in the realization that I am a middle age grown up. In my mind, I'm 23, carefree and singing along with the MTV Party to Go album. One out of three is still truth.
When I left downtown Houston at 5:15pm - which for the record, defines adulting - I needed a respite. I knew it would be a long drive home, so I reached for the new Jen Hatmaker podcast and settled in. While paying full attention to the busy traffic patterns, I may have been furiously trying to finish the download of this highly anticipated gem. No luck. I only had 3 seconds downloaded.
During the day, my mom gave me a small baggie of cheese crack. If you are from the South, you know these baked delicacies to be called Cheese Straws. After a day of not eating and facing a rush hour crisis, I dug into my bag for the golden Ziplock of goodness. It was full when I started. By the time I reached the Loop, empty. I did manage to snap this picture before I ate the last two. If you have never had these, you must find your favorite southern cook and beg them for a batch. Seeing the crumbs in the bottom of the bag did nothing to help my mood.
In the safest of distracted driving ways, I realized my slower than usual data (thank you teens and summer road trips) would not allow a timely retrieval. In that moment, a stroke of genius hit. FREE wifi! With a deep sigh and a prayer to 7lb 6oz Baby Jesus, I called on the gods of the Golden Arches to come to my rescue. Not only would this allow a speedy download, but their far superior filtration system would produce the necessary caffeine for the journey. As I came over the next Loop 610 hill (I mean, overpass), the golden "M" rose into the sky and I may or may not have let out an audible cry of relief. I whipped into the parking lot, $1.08 in hand, and scanned for the public wifi. Nothing. One need was met, but the mission would not be complete without Jen.
If you know Houston, you know that the area east of 288 and south of 610 is industrialized. I falsely assumed that while driving along Mykawa, I would find a public wifi or 10. Nope. I was holding my iPhone in my hand like an antenna and I'm sure that everyone in the area thought I was the crazy suburban mom trying to assist Waze in leading me out of an area that I did not belong.
I found myself at the intersection of the Tollway and Telephone Rd. I had yet to find a public wifi and I was desperate. Being someone who has suffered at the hands of drug induced paranoia, I can fully say that in that moment, I was getting desperate. I knew I was going home to fighting teenage girls (the texts were colorful and numerous for more than and hour), a husband that had a long day at work and no dinner on the table.
Jen's new podcast is entitled "For the Love." In that moment on Beltway 8, that was my cry. That and GIVE ME A FREAKING BREAK. ALL I WANT IS MY COKE AND MY CHEESESTRAWS AND MY JEEEENNNNN! Things were now past desperate and I did the only thing I knew to do. I opened my Starbucks app and found the closest location.
As I sped into the parking lot, I was a sad case. I could not get a strong enough signal from the car, so I grabbed my phone and parked. As I was walking in, I remembered that I had fresh cold caffeine in the car, so I bought the next best thing...iced lemon pound cake. With my cake in hand, I walked to the corner of the store, stood next to the trashcan and logged onto the network like an addict in withdrawal. Seriously, I did not even have a thought about taking a seat. I STOOD in the corner hitting *refesh* like a spastic fool.
The moment it loaded, I ran to the car. Connected to Bluetooth, a familiar voice and humor and laughter filled my car. I don't know Jen, but I KNOW her. The episode was the first in the series 'For the Love of Girlfriends'. She interview one of her dear friends and I listened like the three of us were sharing lemon cake and Coke in my Sequoia. Honestly, there was nothing profoundly earth shattering. They talked about intentionality and hospitality and investment. I had been doing those things all day, and I was blessed by them. What I needed in that moment was to be reminded that I am not on this journey of crazy alone. We all do it. We carry and hold and give away the weight of life in the dance of love. In our families and friendships, with our co-workers and co-parenters, we live out the highs and the lows.
And even on days when I don't want to be a grown up, I wear my inherited role with joy and pride and love. It's a weighty job, this adulting thing. But I can honestly say that there is nothing better than standing beside the ones you love, laughing when you want to cry and doing it all For The Love.
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