Despite the long talk about being on
time and doing the things we say we are going to do, Dez was still in
the shower until 8:50. She was supposed to be out by 8:30. I
expected she would be a few minutes late and so I got down to the
basement showers at 8:35. Still, I wasn’t surprised to hear the
water splashing from the shower. I waited in the computer room,
hoping she’d only be a few more minutes. She wasn’t.
At 8:48 I went back down to the
showers. “Dez!” I yelled down the hall. “Your time is up!”
“Okay, just give me a minute. It’s
freezing cold. And just so you know, I only got in here 5 minutes
ago.”
“Well, I was down here 10 minutes ago
and you were in there.”
“Oh… uh… ok.”
“Can you get me in the computer room
when you’re done?”
“Sure.”
NOTE: Since then, Dez and I have talked
about this event, and I learned that she actually had to wait for the
other girls before she was able to take her 10 minute shower. She
wanted to make sure she didn’t come off like a “Diva” who needs
to take half hour long showers. She’s not a Diva, although she does
have a beautiful voice and a big personality. We still love each
other, and even like each other 90% of the time.
When I finally got down there to take
my shower I found Dez’s statement about the temperature of the water
much more accurate than the one she made about how long she’d been
showering. It was ice. I wasn’t in the mood to practice for my
Alaskan triathlon so I abdicated my right to a shower. I did, and I
think my neighbors would have thanked me, opt to rinse my feet and
hair.
Still, I put my headphones in, took a
sip of coffee, and leaned back in my McCafé
bench chair. “Alone time.” I had forgotten I need it.
And sitting there, I was grateful. I
was grateful for teammates with no sense of time, for the long walks,
for getting lost, for loud corporate cafe’s and undependable
internet. Grateful for being surrounded constantly by people.
Grateful even for the aches and pains. All of those things were part
of a suffering I had asked for, a suffering I had chosen, thrown
myself into, really, for the sake of my soul. Because I had asked
for my body and mind and heart to get the shit kicked out of it this
year. I had asked God to initiate me into a world where life is
hard, where I am not that important, where I am not in control.
“Bring it on, Father,” I thought in
that silly coffee shop. “This is nothing. Bring it. Because I
want to know at the deepest level that I am not as strong as I think
I am. I want to know at the deepest level that you are much more
powerful than I give you credit for. Bring it, God.”
