Be My Thrill

“Show me a day when the world wasn’t new.” –Sister Barbara Hance

Some things never get old.

I’ve made the drive from the lake to Tuscaloosa time and time again. But the view of the sunset is really remarkable, and every single time I’m smitten. Honestly, I’m oohing and aahing and I can’t believe this is for my eyes.

It doesn’t matter how many times I get to drink an iced coffee. I still think, every single time, “Man, this stuff is delicious. Another!”

I have listened to“Dead Sea” by The Lumineers approximately 842 times. And every time it comes on, my heart skips a beat. “Guess what I’m listening to!” I tell him. He guesses.

Some things just don’t get old. When my mom sends me a text that says, “Have a lovely day! I love you!” I soak it up. After all, people, I know all too well what it’s like to ache for the very unique sort of love a mother lavishes.

When someone says, “I like you,” or “You did a great job!” or “Holy cheese nips, you have mad laundry skills!” I let those words of affirmation fall on me like rain, and man oh man, it’s refreshing every single time.

When I hang out with Jesus, and hear his voice: it’s new every single time. It’s like riding the Hulk at Universal Studios. Have you kids done that? You’re pretty sure this roller coaster is going to go just like all the other roller coasters, but mid-voice over intro, you just get shot out of a cannon at 65 mph. The second time, you know that’s going to happen, but when it goes, your stomach flips all the same. It’s like that.

“Your mom” jokes. Suffice it to say my friends are hoping this gets old soon. (I find this joke particularly suitable for my nursery-keeping at church. “Someone’s at the door!” a toddler will announce. “Your mom!” They don’t think I’m funny.)

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On the other hand, there are some things that never seem comfortable, no matter how many times you do them. Seeing your best friend in pain, for example. My very best friend has a really  sore foot, and all I could offer was a hug, some Jolly Ranchers, and new nail polish. “Can I help?” I asked in a pleading voice that said, “Please. Anything to make it better.” She shook her head. I’ve been around a lot for aches and pains of the feet and the heart, but it didn’t hurt any less. Her pain was sharp; mine was a sort of fierce throbbing. When she reached over and took my hand, I was partly convinced that she was trying to make me feel better. It worked. But then again, it always does. Some things never get old.

Something else I cannot get a grip on? Going to the dentist. Seriously, it’s one of those things I know is silly, but still keeps me up until 2 a.m. with knots in my stomach. And it’s not like this is anything new; I had braces for eight years, people. This means I’ve sat in that chair hundreds of times. But I sweat it every single time anyway.

As I filled out my new-patient paperwork for my cleaning visit, the receptionist sat down beside me. “Are you nervous?” she asked. I’m not sure what gave it away—shaking, sweaty hands are usually a sign of calm, cool cucumbers—but I obviously couldn’t hide it. I nodded. She smiled and patted my leg. “We’re going to take care of you.” (She wasn’t kidding. They have massage chairs there.)

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After I left the dentist, walking on sunshine because it was over and I was still with you, I called my mom. The pride in her voice was nearly palpable. “I love you,” she said. I smiled. Thank you.

When the Starbucks guy handed me my cappuccino, I know he saw the glittering in my eyes. Another!

And of course, I looked up. He is so real. So present. So loving. For me?

My prayer is that it never gets old.

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