Peace in a Massage Chair

OK, I haven't written anything in a while, but do I have some dreamy ideas of things to write. You know, things that have been piling up in my head. Right now, though I am getting ready for the new school year, as I sure many people are. This year is different though, because on top of home-schooling my own cherubs, I'll be teaching at their home-school school twice a week. I'll be teaching second grade, which I think is pretty safe, since generally second graders still like adults: Also, I've known very few to carry knives, belong to gangs, or run over their teachers in the darkness of a dimly lit parking lot.

I have to be honest, I'm a little scared to teach at this school, even though it does appear to be a gang-free campus. The school abides by the Classical Educational approach, and they specifically teach per the Greek Trivium and Quadrivium. Have I lost you yet? Well, let me just say that there are three schools within the school: The School of Grammar, The School of Logic, and the School of Rhetoric. There is no School of Hard Knocks, like the one I made my thirteen year old son put on his Facebook profile, just in case a stalker tried to find him in his real circle of activity.

All I know is that the kids will be taking Latin, and when I mentioned that I was fluent in, and had nearly thirty years conversational experience in Pig Latin, the young gentleman who had just finished a tour of Rome after his graduate studies in Latin at Stanford appeared stymied, and asked me what Pig Latin was. Given his illustrious resume, I was perplexed how that never came up in a graduate course.

Anyhoo, I suspect this year will bring many learning experiences for me, as well as my fellow faculty members. I can hardly wait! I don't really have any stories or anecdotes about my new adventure, though I'm sure they'll come. I do enjoy everyone there, and they are unbelievably nice, generous, and helpful, so it should be more fun than I can even imagine. I look forward to those anticipated blessings.

In regards to anticipated blessings, I am reminded of a recent unanticipated blessing with the kiddies. It was one Saturday, I think, that Tracey, our neighbor, unexpectedly took all three of the kids to the mall. Let me say this, when we get that kind of a break from the kids, it is as though we have boarded a luxury cruiser set sail for the Bahamas. The sun shines more brightly. The birds sing just a little more clearly, and when I gaze at Rick, I am not wondering why he isn't folding clothes along with me, or vacuuming the hallway, I just see a twenty-two year old boy I fell in love with.

Let me be clear, it's not like we anguish to spend time with our kids. Heck, I even like spending time with their friends, but just like a dear friend who sits between you and your honey at the movie theater, there are times when three is a crowd. So, though we love and adore our children, we are so seldom apart from them, and a little break is like a dream vacation wherein I am not bound to the servitude of anyone. I don't make any food. I don't fold a towel, or any clothing items, and I forget completely how to clean. I suddenly become inexplicably sleepy, lazy, and remiss in doing one single thing for anyone, much like when I was in high school.

So, as the kids prepared to leave I slipped Sophie -- of all people -- twenty dollars. She was to keep it tucked inside the zipper compartment of her little purple butterfly purse. The money was in case they stopped to get something to eat, as I believe that Tracey's generosity should never be taken for granted. They were to offer to pay for themselves, even if she insisted on paying. "That," I told them, "was the right thing to do," though Austin tried to convince me that getting a new XBox game was the better thing to do.

Hours later when they returned, Rick and I listened as they told us about their time at the mall, their meal with Tracey, her husband, Tracy, and their son, Tyler (yes, Tracey's husband's name is Tracy. I did not make a mistake). They told us about their blizzard, super-sized ice-creams, and all the things they wanted at the mall. Then, I asked the question that begged to be asked, "Do I have any change?" Knowing Tracey well enough to know she would never allow the kids to pay for themselves, I fully expected Sophie to plop down on the desk in front of me the same crisp twenty dollar bill I'd given her hours earlier, but instead she handed me one crinkled dollar bill and some change.

Then, as if someone had shaken a can of soda that was ready to explode, Sophie said, "And, we got you something. We got you a gift."

"What?" I asked. "You bought me a gift? Really?" The dollar and change was suddenly clear. They had used my money to buy me a gift. I would have pointed out the irony of it all, but they were all three so excited.

"Yep," Austin chimed in. "We got you something you will really like..."

"Really, really like," Chloe emphasized, and Austin handed me a card with "Mom" written on the envelop in cursive.

I looked up at their excited faces, and poked my finger in the crease of the envelop to rip it open. "Wow, that's so nice," I said. I pulled from the white envelop a white card with a colorful orange and yellow flower. Inside the card each one had written their own thank-you messages, thanking me for being their mom and doing everything for them to make their lives special. If that wasn't enough, there was a gift certificate for a fifteen minute chair massage at a massage shop in the mall. "Wow, you guys are so thoughtful. How sweet of you." I pulled each one into my lap and gave them a kiss and a tight squeeze. "Thank you so much for thinking of me."

Now, with the busyness of the coming days I eventually poked that card with its sweet words, and gift behind some things on our office desk. I had really forgotten all about it, as days passed until one day I was saying to Chloe that I was tired, and she turned to me and said, "Well, we are trying you know."

"Trying what?" I asked.

"Trying to give you a break, but you won't take it. We got you that massage and you haven't even used it." In typical Chloe form, she threw her arms up in dramatic alarm and frustration, but enough for me to get her point. She was right. With that, I knew that just like planning anything important, I would have to plan to take that break they had offered me. Sometimes I guess it's just like that when you become far more comfortable in busyness and hectic circumstances. Just like Job, I had gotten used to the tone of my thoughts, which were, "I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil" (Job 3:26).

With the coming Saturday, we planned on my fifteen minute chair massage. The kids were thrilled. Walking through the mall, we found the "So Relaxed" massage shop. I still don't know if the lady understood English, but with sufficient hand signals, and my waving the pink gift certificate around, she seemed to finally understand and motioned me to an ergonomic back massage chair right in front of the storefront window.

Sophie, our six year old, was particularly giddy. She told the lady that she had bought me the gift certificate, and as I leaned over in the chair, Sophie hunched down under my face to make sure I was, indeed, relaxed. "You relaxed?" she asked. I smiled, my face taut through the little whole in the chair and tried to nod my obvious relaxation. She darted off into the mall to Rick and Austin sitting on a nearby bench. "She's relaxed." I heard her exclaim - mission accomplished!

Eventually the massage began, though it became fairly obvious soon after its initiation that the "masseuse" was either opposed to gaining proper knowledge about the art of massage, or she hated me. I'll assume that since she smiled a lot and did not appear to spit on my head during the scalp massage portion, she was simply inadequately trained.

At one point, the massage left the back region altogether, and she began hitting the sides of my thighs. At one point, I felt sorry for the woman. Perhaps she'd always wondered if women with big thighs could just beat them into submission and she was just now, testing out that ill-conceived theory. 'No, if you hit them, they will not shrink. I know, I've tried that since I was ten years old and they are still there!' Eventually, as though giving up, she stopped. 'Thank you, God. I mean, we know those babies aren't going anywhere, and now she does too, right?'

I hoped she'd make her way to my shoulders, but this back massage was now moving due north to my head. The unfortunate thing about that was that I had let my hair air dry. It was in curly mode with the help of some curling mousse, and if she kept squeezing and floundering around up there, my hair would be in a blond Afro that would make getting back to the car excruciating. If Rick even looked at me sideways, I would freak out, since oftentimes when my hair goes into a life of its own, he will say, "Do not touch your hair. Just slowly move toward the mirror and check out how huge your hair is. Really, it's amazing!"

Sophie flitted in again, and hunched down under my face, "Still relaxed?" I smiled and she went back to Rick and Austin to give another report. "She's still relaxed!" How long will this last? Fifteen minutes is a long time to be plucked at. I heard some women assessing my massage through the storefront window. "Looks good," said one. 'Wow, OK, well it doesn't look like the mess that it is. That's good.'

I knew the massage was nearly over when the woman started grasping my appendages and schwooping down them quickly, letting out a quick little breath. I'd seen this method used on our free tree when the tree-hugger finally said goodbye. It is a method to get rid of bad energy - trust me. I live in California. I know. With a few quick schwoops we were done, and because I'm really lame and afraid of people hating me, I tipped her bad massage.

I stuffed a few dollar bills into a glass jar, patted down my over-sized white girl fro and found Rick and the kids sitting on a nearby wooden bench in the mall. I must have looked relaxed, like I'd just woken up with my over-sized puffy hair, because the kids were thrilled by my appearance. They came quickly to me with big wide smiles, and warm sweet hugs. "Oh, you guys are so great," I said. They each seemed to nod, as though they knew. "Thank you for thinking of me."

Really, life is more often like that than we realize: How often does God really offer me a rest or reprieve, only to hear me say I don't have time, or complain about how that short reprieve from my normal busyness will be more bothersome than it's worth? And, though I did not get rest in the traditional sense of the word from my little fifteen minute massage, I know that I rest and find peace in my children's love for me, just as I know I can rest and find peace in an Almighty and awesome God.

Matthew 11:28 "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."