crash

(and this will end the rhyming titles)

Travel day. A van, lunch at Burger King, good-bye to our friends. A sky train, an air plane, a tuk tuk. Home, kitty! A moto out to supper. Back home, kitty, kitty, kitty!!!

She sure seemed happy to see us, although she's been yowling quite a bit to let us know how awful it was that we left her for so long. Lots of purring, though, too. And pounces and frolics. Boy, did I miss her, too.

So, no. In spite of the title of this post, all our traveling was safe. It was me who crashed and burned, and I am not pleased about it.

It all started last night after putting up the blog. I continued to think about why it might seem harder to connect with God recently. I prayed, asking if there was anything standing between us. Immediately I heard Him say, "The kitty".

Don't pray and ask God a question if you really don't want the answer.

I was like, "What? You're going to ask me to give up my little cat???" And He said, "I didn't say that, but your heart has to be submitted in that area. You have to stop holding onto her so tightly." Well, I kind of threw a little spiritual temper tantrum. Seriously. I pictured myself stomping around while I argued. I threw in a few angry jumps, just for emphasis. Really. Is it so much to ask, just to have a kitty?

Well, I never resolved things with Him last night before I fell asleep, but I woke up this morning realizing the truth of His words (I have really dug my heels in about taking the kitty with us when we go back to the US) but still pouting about it. I tried to shake it as we traveled, but I had pretty much settled into a pity party by the time we got on the airplane.

My mood was not helped when I realized Mr. wanted to go out for supper once we arrived home. He was right, of course, because there was no food in the house, but I just wanted to stay home once we got there. With. My. Kitty.

No one cares about what I want. Not Mr., not God. I sulked as I played Angry Birds. A fitting game for my state of mind.

And then. As we began the descent to our destination, they came on with the regular "please turn off all electronic devices" announcement. I thought I'd just finish that round, and then turn off my iPod Touch. But before the announce was even finished, a stewardess was standing at our row, telling me to turn it off.

I was TICKED. I said, "Yes, thank you," in a dismissive way that said, "I've heard you and I will turn it off when I'm ready." But she still stood there, staring. I stared back, defiantly. "Turn it off," she said again. I glared, said "Woooow" with all the scathing sarcasm I could muster, and turned it off.

But, oh no. It wasn't finished then. She kept standing there, looking angry. I was like, "What?!"

"Turn it off!"

"It's OFF!"

"No, it isn't. Move the slider…"

And with that she reached across Mr. to take the device. I pushed the button to make the screen come to life again, and she tried to swipe the bar at the bottom.

Mr. was involved now. "That turns it ON" he said, and swiped it, bringing up all the apps.

Then she was flustered. "Oh, it's not an iPhone…just an iPod." And she was gone.

I was furious. And then I was disappointed. Fortunately they turned down the lights for the landing, and I was glad for the privacy to let the tears trickle down unnoticed.

Or so I thought. I felt Mr.'s hand on my knee. He didn't say anything. He was just there.

So, she caught me in a bad moment, when I was feeling particularly sorry for myself. And I reacted poorly. Apparently, she too was having a bad moment. There was clearly more to the scene than what appeared on the surface.

This rebellious, stubborn heart of mine. I am trying and trying to come to grips with the fact that life isn't about What I Want. It isn't about my personal goals or fulfillment or happiness. On the other hand, God is not some ogre, eager to take away anything that gives me pleasure. Why do I just leap to that awful assumption.

I think we have a lot more wrestling to do about this, God and I. Maybe it's going to be Him and me against this wayward will of mine. One thing's for sure: I won't be able to subdue it on my own.