crapping the bed

 Story

Years ago, when I was in high school, I was a member of one of the school choirs.

One of the perks of being a member of the choir was the amazing adventure that was commonly referred to as "choir tour".  I remember that I cared very little about what we sang or when we sang it, but thought a lot about how much fun it would be to spend a week or so with a bunch of classmates as we took a tour bus on an amazing journey.

Our destination that year was Colorado.

Being a snowboarder and living a the land of 10,000 lakes but ZERO mountains... the Colorado thing sounded like a pretty good deal.

And it was... I had a lot of fun with the other students, we had a day at the mountain, we sang in some lovely places, and I am sure had some very pleasant memories made.... but none of those memories immediately come to mind for me when I think back to the trip.

...as a matter of fact, my immediate connection with what would have been a whimsical and light-hearted-song-filled adventure is something completely different...

you see, I got really sick.

No..... you don't understand.... I got really... really sick.

The worst part of it happened over the course of a full day, where I threw up over 25 times (I think when it comes to vomiting... numbers mean nothing after 15.. you just stop counting, but I was fortunate enough to have others keep a running tally for me ) ...and this wasn't counting the times where my body struggled to push my torn-up-barbed-wire-filled intestines through my dry-as-cotton mouth... and failed, over, and over, and over... but not without leaving my mangled and helpless body sprawled out next to the porcelain thrones in any number of public bathrooms... yes, dry heaves are what I speak of.

In the midst of this fantastic display of semi-digested projectile was what should have been an incredibly embarrassing moment for me if it wasn't so pathetic... though at the time, I think it was a balance of the two.

As my body fought to remove whatever illness was plaguing me between my marathon of vomit spells, I woke up in the middle of the night... freezing cold, sweat drenched, and lying in a watery lukewarm puddle of my own feces.

Awful.

Fortunately there were some loving chaperons along for the tour, who did a fantastic job of caring for me and helping me to get cleaned up while maintaining for me some sense of dignity... I still wonder what happened to those sheets though...

So, I got cleaned up... threw up a bunch more... eventually recovered before the tour ended, and I made it back home in one piece.

That whole terrible mess is what I think of when the choir tour comes to mind... it was not good... but it was memorable. 


Application

Well... I suppose  a lot could be taken from this.. and I am not quite sure what to focus on.

We could tie it to how if we focus on the negative aspects of life it can take away from the positive pieces and the beauty of the adventure we are on...

We could talk about how important it is to go through a process of removing filth (sin ) from our lives, even if it leaves us tired, beat up, embarrassed, and weak.. because it is not until the mess is out of us and out in the open that we can truly begin to clean ourselves and recover.

We could talk about the need to persevere in the midst of trials and circumstances and the beauty that comes in the form of fellowship when we allow others to help us and expose our vulnerability in a loving environment.

But, instead, I think i will just mention those things briefly and allow for you to draw your own connection and application from this story...