Leaving the House

For a long time, I didn't want to leave the house. I'd climb in bed with a mystery novel, flick the TV on to "Everybody Loves Raymond" and stay there until it was time to get up and go to work. But then one day, I decided it was no longer acceptable to lounge around, I was well, or at least they said I was. So when friends called and made plans I felt obligated to accept. Slowly, I began to have a social life again and frankly, I didn't like it. I wanted to sleep, I wanted to read, I wanted to hide in my room. My room had been my womb, for well, actually about 9 months. It was time to emerge.

A few weeks ago I realized something. Going out was not the chore it used to be. I looked forward to movies, concerts, monster truck rallies (OK maybe not the last one), and other activities. About a month ago, I agreed to attend two concerts this weekend. I really didn't want to go to two concerts, I barely wanted to go to one, but it was all part of my plan to get out and about. When the weekend came, not only did I not dread the events, I looked forward to going. I even had a good time. Who would guess?

I was so pumped that I thought this week, I would even stand during the appropriate places in church. First there was the entrance, and I stood. Then came the reading of the decalogue, and I stood. After a short break came the reading of the gospel, I prepared to stand, and then I looked at the leaflet, instead of the usual 10 or 12 verses, there were 41 verses from the book of John. I think God was telling me to take it easy, you're not there yet. So I sat back in the pew and rejoiced that I have come so far, and accepted that I'm not quite there yet.

Next week, I'll be in the Big Easy and though I'm a little nervous about how well I'll do, I am confident and hopeful because if I can make it there, then I can make it any ... oh wait, that's the Big Apple. Never mind.