Tender Mercies Admist a Tidal Wave

(No, this is not a post about the tsunami in Japan. My little trials seem virtually insignificant when compared with the terrible things the Japanese people are enduring; so please read this with a light-hearted tone.)

Have you ever experienced a living nightmare? Not something truly horrible, yet nightmarish nevertheless? Have you had one of those experiences where you say to yourself, "This really cannot be happening to me?" Well, I was the recent recipient of such an experience.

Imagine my great excitement at having the opportunity to teach 7th grade history for a day at Middle School. (Now you may not have been around me often enough lately to know that this is not sarcasm. I was truly excited. Subbing at Plainfield and Sci-Tech is great because I love the teachers and the kids, but elementary school does not come naturally for me. Bring on the Big Kids! Teaching at the high school would be my first choice if I was teaching fulltime. And, history! Well, you all know me well enough to know that I LOVE history. Another wonderful thing about secondary ed is that you get to do the same lesson plan more than once--so you get a chance to perfect it or to redeem yourself if you really bomb the first time. Plus, no matter how unenjoyable a student is, you get to say goodbye to them in under an hour. This was going to be my first full day subbing at the middle school.)

Imagine now that the morning at the Jensen household goes beautifully, including my normal big glass of water and morning breakfast. Right before departing, I use the bathroom. Brimming with enthusiasm I arrive at Middle School at 8:15am. School officials have determined that students this age need more sleep, so school begins at 8:45am. (Unless, of course, you are in the band.) The first period class is fabulous--students are on task, I know all the material, things just could not have gone better. Now the daymare begins.

It suddenly hits me hard that I need to use the bathroom. The urge is so strong that I can barely move. The staff restroom is quite a distance from my current location in a portable classroom. I stand still as a statue, waiting for the strong urge to pass so that I can begin the trek to the restroom. It never subsides. Here the tender mercies begin. It is now second period, the teacher's prep period and no students are afoot. I decide it's time to make a break for it. With each step I am tightening every muscle in my body and chanting over and over again, "I will NOT wet my pants." As I reach the halfway mark of what seems like an endless journey, the inconceivable begins to happen. Like an old faucet, I begin a slow leak. With each step, the leak increases. I begin a fervent prayer, "If the Red Sea can be parted, surely this flood can be stopped." Sometimes we pray for the wrong things, and sometimes the answer is not today. Not only did the flood not subside, it began to course down my legs. I wasn't even to the building yet. Surely this must be a nightmare. How in the world could I possibly be completely wetting my pants as an adult at middle school?! Finally, I make it to the office and to the door of the women's room which is .. LOCKED. At which point the flood gates swing wide open. In desperation I ran into the men's room. In the three steps from the door to the toilet, the bathroom could've been retitled, "A River Runs Through It." Still in shock, I hastily mop the floor with paper towels and ask the searching question, "How can this be happening to me?"

Imagine now, me trying to summon all of my dignity as I walk into the front office and approach the school secretary. "Well, this is really embarrassing and has never happened to me before, but I have just completely wet my pants and need to go home. I will be back by third period." She was very kind and told me where to sign out. I ran home, showered, donned new pants, and returned to teach 4 more classes.

Return to the tender mercies: Truly, if a person was going to full-on wet their pants at middle school, it couldn't have possibly been under better circumstances. The thick brown pants I was wearing showed no outward signs of the inner flood. No students were involved in the trauma. The timing was perfect--leaving ample time for a quick shower and return. Our prayers are not always (or even usually) answered in the way I expect, but the Lord is truly always mindful of us.

p.s. The very next day, my wonderful P.A. informed me that I have "urge incontinence" and gave me a prescription. Fortunately, it can just be taken as needed. It hasn't even been taken out of the bag yet, but it's presence brings a great peace of mind. The flood occurred a few weeks ago, with no other problems to date. However, if you hear me say in the future that I really need to use the restroom, please kindly clear a path.