Get the Funk Out
(Sort of) Irrelevant Story: I met Chris’ mom six weeks before our wedding. When she originally booked tickets to visit her son in South Africa, she didn’t know she would meet her future daughter-in-law and grandson at the same time! I had been single parenting Lifa for several years, and Chris was still learning what he was getting himself into. Lifa was seven and wore a cape every day. We blared the song Uptown Funk every morning on the way to school. Chris invited us on a hike with his mom when she arrived in South Africa. Lifa and I sat rode in the backseat and danced to the song No Diggity on the way there, while the reality of this family sunk in to everyone in the car. Lifa was so thrilled to bask in this beautiful family that was forming, he couldn’t help but sing. At the time, he still regularly switched between his first, tribal language and English. His accent was thick. That bright-eyed, caped seven-year old hiked up a mountain with his new grandmother singing, “Uptown funk you up, Uptown funk you up.” He was so proud to have her listening. Chris and I walked behind them trying not to explode in laughter. It did not sound like Lifa was singing funk. In fact, the whole line sounded like he needed his mouth washed out with soap. We just let it happen and loved every second of it.
I’ve had a few days of funk this week. I’ve desperately needed to get the funk out. Which is the whole reason for telling you that story. And because that story really should be told often.
Funks happen. This week, mine was a combination of a lot of big conversations for ministry and a faraway sister due to give birth any day now. Sometimes funky weeks happen from PMS and broken mufflers (also me this week) or all the weeks being the same all the time (2020, anybody?). The cause of the funk often doesn’t matter nearly as much as the response to it. If life was about nothing more than our circumstances, we wouldn’t have much going for us.
The moral of this whole funky story is: get the funk out. Do what you gotta do. Don’t overanalyze, criticize or shame yourself for the funk (also me this week). Just get.it.out.
Here are some of my funkaways* this week. (*Note: Its’s a very good thing this is written and not spoken. Risky language here. It’s also noteworthy that my mom gave me a complex about the “f-word” as a child, and I have never ever said it. I intend to do the same to my children.)
My Funkaways of the week:
Reach out to a friend for prayer. Make a deal to pray for her funk, and let her pray for mine instead of pining over myself.
Eat secret chocolate alone on my bedroom floor.
Put the baby to bed early, and do an after-dinner workout.
Give myself a pass to not do everything on my to-do list for a night.
Do something nice for someone else.
Drink fancy coffee with frothed milk instead of plain black.
What are yours!?!
This one is still framed in our house. That famous first hike with GoGo Sherry in 2015.