Out of Order

The last stall in the girl’s bathroom has been “Out of Order” for the past week. I don’t know what’s wrong with it. I haven’t bothered to check it out. All I know is that there’s a sign and I trust that the sign isn’t telling a lie.

It makes me wonder, though. What would happen if we could wear a sign on the days when we are out of order—out of stability—out of calm—out of harmony—out of peace—out of tranquility—out of lawfulness—out of serenity?

What would happen if we could wear a sign on those days when our hearts and minds just aren’t in our work; when we’ve had an argument with our loved ones and our love tanks are far from full; when we’re beyond tired from the demands of the world; when grief overwhelms us; when worry consumes us; when we’re just not feeling like adulting; when all we want to do is take a vacation that doesn’t require another vacation to recover?

I wonder if people would give us a wide berth and trust that the sign isn’t lying. I wonder if we would be left alone to deal with our upheaval in such a way that we don’t end up saying or doing something that we will later regret.

Alas. We don’t get to wear signs. And yet there are signs all around—of systems and people who are out of order—stability—calm—harmony—peace—tranquility—lawfulness—and serenity…

God, help us to see signs of dis-order, and help us to steer clear of situations that can inevitably hurt us when we know that we, ourselves, are out of sorts. Help us to know when to check on those who are hurting and when to give them space, and help us not to ignore those in dire distress. It’s a fine line—knowing when to check and when to give space—knowing when we ourselves need to ask for help and when we need to go at it alone. Help us as we walk the line and fill us with your peace on days when we are out of order. Amen.