Story time with Noreen: The Life-Changing Magic of Sort of Watching Doctor Who...

What does it look like to limit yourself?  That's kind of a weird question.  Last night, I was pondering this while Daran and Ayden were watching Doctor Who.  Hmmm….Does anyone else get profound thoughts during Doctor Who?  What if we could only describe ourselves or others with a very limited vocabulary.  For instance, what if we could only use adjectives that a 4-year-old could understand like: nice, pretty, kind, mad, bad.  What if we were limited to this vocabulary throughout our lives.  I find words and verbiage to be freeing and powerful. How powerful would it be to explain everything with such a toddler-like vocabulary?  For some reason this is truly distressing to me.  

I think you can often diagnose your greatest fears by thinking back to what causes your nightmares.  Remember how I told you guys that my worst nightmare is being falsely accused of something, but the worst part of it is not having the ability to speak up for myself and explain myself.  My nightmares always include me trying to save myself from some dastardly villain and me being mute and unable to defend myself.  When we were visiting Utah, before we moved here, we stayed with a couple that we did not know.  We were right down the hall from their room.  Daran got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and left the door open.  I, of course, was having a nightmare.  My nightmares inevitably escalate to the point where I am whisper yelling, “Help!”  Interestingly enough, in my dream, that was the real problem.  I got the “Help!” out finally, but no one can hear it because it is no more audible than a mouse scampering across the floor.  So here Daran was in the bathroom, when he hears his wife whisper-yelling, “Help!”  Shockingly, he later told me that it was louder than a whisper.  His instinct to avoid embarrassment and long explanations kicked in, and he jumped up deciding to not go about the normal routine of pulling up his pants, washing his hands, drying his hands, etc.  He found this all unnecessary in the moment.  The next thing I know, I am awakened by a panicked husband, backlit by the hall light, with extreme anxiety written on his face, using one hand to hold his pants up, and whisper-yelling, “Are you ok?”  My overly puzzled wrinkled-forehead response was, “Yes,” but I honestly was thinking at the time, “Are you ok?”  He graciously explained, “You were yelling, “Help!”  “Really?” I replied incredulously as my pillow called my name, and I sunk back into it and fell asleep.  Later on, Daran heard me whisper-yell, “Get out of here you nasty thing!”  I guess I was cured of my dream-induced muteness. I slept peacefully after that.  Poor man.  

Now back to the point, I was thinking about this awful predicament of not having words, vocabulary and verbiage to explain, exhort, and defend.  In the midst of Doctor Who and my deep thoughts, I heard God say, “I didn’t.”  What?!  He didn’t have the words, vocabulary and verbiage to explain, exhort, and defend.  He had a language created by man to paint a very rudimentary kindergarten-like picture of himself with.  He limited himself in so many ways physically, but the one thing that would be left behind for millennia to come were His words, and they unfortunately were limited.  This language did not have a word to describe his limitlessness, his power, his love, his eternalness, etc.  Sounds frustrating to me, but He chose to do it anyway - to come down to earth and use crayons and finger-paints to create His eternal masterpiece. I am forever grateful that he boxed himself in for me.  

P.S. I will let you know if I have any future epiphanies while sudo-watching Dr. Who.