I believe that a true test of one’s character is how one handles putting together a near-antique bunk bed at 10:30 pm after a long day of packing and moving. It turns out my character has a few flaws.
I just moved home for the second time since graduating college. In the past seven years my stuff has been carted up and down I-29 more times than I care to count.
Somewhere between spending the night on a bus at training camp, and lying there on the lower bunk in my old room at my parents’ house, I realize that I must be crazy.
I mean, what kind of person quits a job they enjoy, moves back in with their parents, and leaves everyone they love, all for a trip where they’ve been told they’ll be on cramped busses for days at a time, have no control over their lives, and probably poop their pants at some point?
There is clearly something wrong with me.
I could say I’m “crazy for Jesus” but that sounds like something you put on a t-shirt for the guy who yells the loudest at outdoor Christian concerts. So I’ve come up with a few slogans that better fit my current situation.
-Losing my marbles, finding my purpose.
-Not in my right mind, but doing the right thing.
-Riding the crazy train (for probably days at a time. Travel days are a concept, not an actual 24-hour period you know.)
– A few fries short of a happy meal and no McDonalds in sight.
– Lost my mind, found my calling.
– A few screws loose, but tight with my Savior.
– Off my rocker (and onto a plane/train/bus seat).
– Lights are on, nobody’s home (because I’m gone for eleven months)
– Not all there (because I’m everywhere else).
– Questionable sanity for Jesus.
– Losing my mind for the Lord.
– Mentally unstable for my Savior.
– Missing something upstairs (which is probably good…it’s less I have to move).
– Insane and in love with my Jesus.
And you know what? If this is crazy, I don’t want to be sane.
