Sunday, November 20, 2011

Allow me to be Cheesy

I realize that many of us come from different backgrounds and have different beliefs and that is completely okay! I know a lot of you keep faith out of your blogs because that's not really what this is about and I think for the most part I will do the same...except for this one post.

As I am currently single, I sometimes joke with God about Him being my HOH. I often seem to get myself into sticky situations and need a life line out and then I realize if I had let God help me decide what to do I wouldn't be in that mess in the first place! Ug!

And I think God is the perfect HOH. He's always consistent. He knows just when to show mercy and when we need to learn our lesson. He never disciplines us beyond what we can handle - except sometimes it may feel like it. And He, of course, always knows when we keep things from Him or pretend to not hear Him.

But the thing I don’t like about God (if I can even say that?) is that He’s not a literal physical being. Yes, he sent Jesus down here physically and YES He can work through other people, etc. But I wish sometimes God himself would literally come down from the Heavens and hug me and hold me. And this may seem blasphemous, but, yeah I wish he would spank me too. Because it's hard making bad decisions - KNOWING they are wrong and then not seeing the consequences for weeks, months, or even years later. If I saw the consequences right away, maybe I wouldn't mess up so much!

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to go out drinking with some of my friends. Of course I accepted because it's not bad to enjoy some drinks with a few friends! But I knew it would turn in to more than that because once I start feeling tipsy I keep drinking so the feeling doesn't go away. I am not a "party-er" at all, especially compared to most college students. I only go out and "party" maybe twice each semester. 

And I usually justify it because I never do anything stupid like drive or go home with anyone or even go in a bedroom with anyone. I always have friends with me and we set up boundaries before we even go in and decide that if anyone feels uncomfortable we have a code word we use and we will all leave with each other immediately no questions asked. So I feel like I "party safely"...if that can even be a thing.

Anyways I had been feeling especially bad about partying lately because I do feel like I am living a double life sometimes and I don't want to be like that. 

On this particular night, I drank way way too much like I knew I would and I was feeling guilty but I kept going. I danced with some stupid boys who wanted to take me home and I politely declined each one. When it was time to leave, my friends and I began the walk out to the car and one of them had the bright idea to race. Well, I couldn't let them win! I took off running and ran straight across a four lane road and toppled over the curb on the sidewalk and landed on the ground.

I felt immense pain in my foot but I jumped up and laughed it off with my friends. But in the car on the way home the pain sobered me up real quick. I limped up to my apartment and took two Advil - which is a big thing because I avoid pills at ALL cost, and I went to bed thinking it would just go away by morning.

When I woke up my foot was swollen up like a balloon and it had a delightful black and blue lump on the side. My roommate took me to the emergency room and as I was hobbling in, I began to realize what this would mean if my foot was actually broken. I am still a little nervous about sharing my whole life on here, so I won't go in to detail, but I am an actress and I had a show in four weeks.

I cried while they were taking the x-ray. The nurses kept offering me pain pills but I wasn’t crying from the pain. I was so scared and I kept praying that it wasn't broken and I begged God telling Him I would never ever ever ever ever do it again and could He just please please not let it be broken.

After waiting for awhile the nurse came in and smiled brightly.

"Well, congratulations you broke it!"

I was devastated. After getting up to my apartment (which I should mention is on the second floor and not easy to get to with crutches) I laid on my bed and sobbed. After getting it all out I began to calm down and a peace came over me.

I realized (yes it's cheesy) that God was being my HOH. He was taking care of me and He needed to get my attention. I had just asked Him to be in charge and this was His way of disciplining me. He was giving me a physical consequence for my actions immediately after the bad decision was made and I know this sounds ridiculous, but I appreciated it. He does love me. And sometimes I forget that.

It was a difficult four weeks. I did end up being able to be in the show. I wore a boot right up until the last week of final dress rehearsals and then I would take it off just to do my part and then put it back on backstage. So it all worked out in the end and I'm sorry if it's cheesy to say that God is my HOH. But I suppose for now - He is. Until I meet some poor poor guy who has to deal with all this **big cheesy grin**

(NOTE: I would like to add here just so there is no misunderstanding that I do NOT think any time someone is hurt or in an accident that God is "disciplining" them. Bad things happen to everyone all the time and I don't think it's because they did something wrong! I just think in this one specific instance with me and my foot that God was using it to get my attention.)


  1. That's not cheesy! It's these little steps of realization that help us grow. I won't go and get all theological on you, but the concept of a husband being HOH isn't actually biblical. The idea of God as HOH is quite biblical. I'll leave you to muddle that one through. LOL, sorry, sort of.

  2. LOL I am interested in this conversation!! I didn't want to stir up too much trouble or debate right off the bat but maybe sometime soon - I would really love to here your more in-depth explanation! :)

  3. Actually, it makes perfect sense to me. :)