Wednesday morning I left the doctor's office with an authoritative command to lower my stress. I've never considered myself a stressed-out person, but there have been seasons of life that test my anxiety levels. I guess I'm in one now.
Yesterday, I got home from work, threw my stuff down, and walked back outside to water the plants. Since it was a blazin' 97 degrees Fahrenheit, I pulled the door closed, meaning to leave it a crack open, but it closed all the way. This door has a tricksy lock that locks itself all the time, so I immediately knew what I had done. I tried the handle in vain.
Zane had just texted me saying he wouldn't be home for a while. My phone and keys were now inside. No way of contacting anyone. No breeze. 97 degrees. Blazing sun. Work clothes.
In a semi-shaded swing across the street, I sat for a while, thinking and praying about whatever came to mind. Eventually, I realized I had two choices: sit here until Zane gets home, which could be hours away, or walk five miles to my parent's house.
I chose parent's house.
People don't really walk anywhere in Orlando. Especially in the suburbs. We drive. That's it. So, I felt out of place walking alongside the busy state road in my work clothes. Walking through my parent's neighborhood, I sang to myself and chuckled at my situation.
My fingers and feet were swollen, due partly to poor circulation and partly to bad shoes for walking. I sweated and needed the restroom. When I arrived, they gave me food, water, laughter, and free use of the toilet.
This whole situation had potential to be stressful. But it actually forced me to take a break from life and have an adventure, even if a small one. When the doctor told me to lower my stress, she probably didn't mean lock yourself out of the house. However, that 30 minute walk to my parent's house was the most lighthearted I've felt all week.