As keeper of husband, child, and home, I’m normally in charge around here. Will we eat supper? Are there clothes to wear? Should Oliver take a bath tonight? Can we eat out? Should we buy the red sofa and love seat? These are all pretty much in my jurisdiction. I manage the finances, the shopping, gift-giving, the naps, the sicknesses, the calendar. Chad is in charge of vision & direction, nourishing & cherishing, income, outside stuff, power-tool stuff, and helping me. (I help him by doing the aforementioned.) The lines aren’t really drawn that clearly, but those are basic areas, and I’m getting more comfortable in them after five years.

So it’s weird to be in a situation where I am not in charge and don’t know what I should be doing.

Like today. I had a manicure, pedicure, and one-hour massage, courtesy of my mother. I met new people and underwent new procedures (manicure newbie here), all in a new environment. (A local spa and salon.) Nothing was weird or scary– it was all very pleasant. But as I was sitting there, painted, separated toes dangling from the manicure chair, I felt like such a child again, having to be led around and instructed at each new step.

I always need to know what to do, where to go, how to sit. As a firstborn, I am painfully conscious of the rules, whether I am doing things the “right way”, etc. I can’t stand getting into trouble. It bothers me–a lot–when people talk to me when we’re supposed to be listening (during a sermon, a wedding, or in class). For me, being in charge is equated with following the rules, for whatever reason.

So anyway. Today I experienced some feelings of not quite being in charge. And I did okay. I tried to relax and enjoy myself (usually hard to do when one is so in charge of everything), and I talked to the girl doing my nails and tried to get to know her a little bit. I mistakenly tried to put my head in the head-holder on the massage table while I was on my back. (That is not comfortable…I was like, who is this table made for, Mr. Balloon Head?) I put my feet in the pedicure bath before I was supposed to. I didn’t realize I had to dip my hand three times into the paraffin wax, and I was nervous as all get out about it because she kept warning me that it was really hot. I was expecting boiling oil so I did it really fast and the paraffin was all uneven. I dropped my keys on the floor as I was leaving, and I asked about ten times if my nails were dry enough yet to start using my hands. Some decidedly non-in charge behavior.

So what’s the moral lesson here? Not much, except I tried something new without knowing exactly what to do and it turned out pretty well. This is a big step for me. I’m growing! Maybe God will help me grow in this area more. Nothing too crazy, I hope…