I wonder as I wander.

My mind wanders.  If I walked as many roads as my mind travels each day, I'd weigh 40 pounds less and have the cardiovascular stamina of Lance Armstrong!  Even today over lunch at the local Red Robin, I was jolted back to reality when my husband said, "What?!?"  It seems I was staring at my salad and shaking my head with a furrowed brow and a sincere expression.  Jason thought there was something wrong with my food.  In reality I wasn't even aware of the Spicy Fiesta Pollo Salad which laid before me.  My mind had been transported back about 30 minutes prior to a conversation I'd had with a friend before leaving church.  She'd asked me a question and I had tried to convey a strong "negatory" but now I was second guessing myself, was I convincing?  So here I sat, trying to convince my salad that the answer was indeed no.  I can't help it.  My mind wanders. 

Sometimes my wandering mind is a bad thing... a very bad thing.  Like when I've been driving for a few minutes and realize I can't remember any of the scenery or landmarks I've just passed.  That freaks me out.  Once a friend told me that she occasionally experienced the same thing, so I've tried to tell myself I'm normal, when in reality, I secretly fear I am a danger to myself and society.

Sometimes my wandering mind is a good thing... a very good thing.  When I am watching a movie that ends up being too intense for my delicate, nightmare-prone sensabilities, I can just mentally tune it out for awhile and recall a more Disney-esque scene.  A better example is when I am reading the Bible in those quiet moments, alone, and my mind poses a question based on the verses I've read, and I go on a vivid mental adventure in the effort to answer my mind's question.  I am transported back 2000 years or more in history and I start to wonder things like... When, Jesus was born in that stable in Bethlehem, was Mary terrified... she had to be, didn't she?  She had to have a million questions.  She had to wonder what the baby would look like - would he have her eyes, nose, mouth - would he look nothing like her - would he be normal or strange, this God child.  Would he look through to her soul and find her unfit to be his mother.  Would he expose her faults and her frailties.  To add to all of these questions - this was her first child and she had not yet been with a man!  Wasn't she scared about giving birth - without her mama or a sister there to help her.  Without a bed or any conveniences found in her home.  Was she angry with Joseph?  Why couldn't he force the innkeeper to find them a room?!  This wasn't just a selfish request - a desire to have a comfy bed - she was going to have a baby for pete's sake.  Why wasn't he more persistant?  Why didn't he kick somebody out of one of those rooms and claim much needed space for his wife?  I have to tell you - my husband would have done that!  Was she really so meek and mild?  Did she really take it all in stride?  This teenage girl whom God had chosen out of all of the women on the planet to bear his child.

Those are the times when I am so glad that my mind wanders.  When the pages of scripture come alive and I dive right in and find myself 10, 15, 30+ minutes later sitting there staring at my Bible shaking my head with a furrowed brow and a sincere expression - marveling at God.