Roll with the punches. As an obsessive runner/ home school facilitator/ family business bookkeeper/ mom of three/ caregiver of one, you’d think I would understand this concept by now. I’m forever forced to improvise, make due, makeshift, and man up. But, no. Boxing has proven otherwise.
I love structure. I love security. I want to know the next ten moves, the revised itinerary, the game plans from A-Z, and the three alternate fire escape routes. I often speculate on whether God placed me in my positions as a lab-rat gone bad experiment or just felt unusually comical the day he planned out my steps.
I cannot go one day without having numerous infringements upon my time, my schedule, my plans, and my chosen path. But are any of those things even mine to begin with? Not really. They (and I) belong to a sovereign God who have given them to me only to manage, not to own. I am not the deed holder on any of the above.
Many who talk to me about home schooling say they do not “have the patience” to do such things. My reply is always the same, “Neither do I!” And neither do I have the patience for bookkeeping or parenting or cooking or cleaning or doing anything contrary to that which my insatiable flesh desires. I want to live outside and write books and ride my motorcycle, my dirt bike, and swim and shadowbox and run and explore – preferably alone – every single day for goodness sake! Help me!
Hello, my name is Lori and I am a selfaholic.
When I first starting living into these various I-did-not-sign-up-for-these callings, I was poindexter at the dance; Saint Susie at the saloon; a lineman trying to limbo. I felt like a rigid, stiff, stick figure without any joints. I simply could not move. I was much more married to structure than I am now – more than a decade later. I guess I am at least starting to roll.
Still, somewhere along the line I always seem to get into trouble in the ring. The fight is fierce for that which I do not feel like fanning into. When the punches start to fly at me with full-on fury and faster than a five foot female fighter’s hell-fire, I guard up, but I do not get out. I duck, but I do not drive on. Coach says I’m only half-committed to my damage control defense and my fight back formulas. I get the first move and then I set my opponent up to blast me with my incorrect second, third, and fourth moves. He says that when I am under attack, I have to fully commit – either to roll out or fire back. Do both and I’m toast. A knockout is certain to befall me if I fail to find my focus. If I’m half committed – either offensively or defensively, I’m in trouble.
So, I either have to beat ’em to the punch or fix my feet to be quite fancy. If my hit drives me back, it’s the wrong move altogether. I have to learn to stop the rigidity and roll with the punches.
To learn that physically will doubtless help me improve it practically. Whatever happens, I must learn to commit fully. Half commitments, half-hearted hits, and hurried deviations will land me life-down on the canvas and my calling.
And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. ~Isaiah 30:21