when the toilet develops a personality
and my desire for life to be easy
“Learning to pivot is better than learning to plan”. - Kendra Adachi, aka The Lazy Genius
May is always a month of transition for me. In my job, May means the end of semester work, the beginning of summer work, and the weird few weeks in between. Our beloved babysitter graduated college, which was very rude of her, and we are building our relationship with a new one. I’m leading new people at work. Our small group is taking a summer break and Carter and I are now using that time for a weekly date night. The weather is changing. You know, just regular stuff.
And then, the toilets stopped flushing.
Apparently at our house we have a system that is similar to septic but not actually septic. Please don’t ask me any questions about this. There is a tank and a pump involved, and the pump is not working. Last summer, this issue was happening and the choices were “repair” or “replace”. We chose repair, and the repair held for not quite a year. Now, we are at “replace”. Despite the attempted repair, the toilets bubble and gurgle after flushing and when you run the shower. The gurgling has a lot of attitude to it, if you ask me—as if the toilet is exasperated by our attempt to use the shower. Maybe it’s a jealousy thing. “Pay attention to me,” says the toilet. Then, like a toddler going limp noodle when you ask them to do something crazy such as walking1, it just gives up.
Anyway, after spending the weekend at my in-laws, we booked an Airbnb for a few days. I’m grateful we had the option to do so, but Airbnb, if you’re reading—and I know you are—may I suggest a “toddler-friendly” filter for your search feature? The house we rented had an abundance of knickknacks and potted floor plants. Honorable mention to the fireplace and low cabinet full of cleaning supplies. I had to watch the boys all the time and felt like I was telling them “no” constantly.
Yesterday, the plumber was able to come out and provide a temporary fix. He told us we should feel free to use our water as normal. Great news! I packed up the Airbnb and headed back home. About 8 hours later, as Carter and I are getting ready to go to bed…more bubbling. No flushing. I am mad at the plumber, which I feel guilty about2, and am deflating at the prospect of making more decisions and facing more uncertainty.
The accumulation of the stress from the past five days welled up in my body. I laid down to go to sleep, but my heart was pounding and my stomach was turning. Was it stress, or did I eat something bad? Hang on, am I about to have food poisoning with no toilet? Mercifully the answer to that question was no, and after a few hours the feelings subsided and I was able to get some sleep.
I’ve been in a tug-of-war lately with my self-preservation instincts. In its proper place, self-preservation does just that—keeps you safe. There is wisdom in paying attention to when your mind and body are saying enough.
However, my sense of self-preservation can trend toward a disordered state. Life with toddlers means that any day has the potential to be some level of unpredictable. The giving is constant; the logic, nonexistent. There are times when my reaction to this level of demand on my capacity is to complain when things don’t go my way, to put my desires ahead of what’s best for the collective, and to generally filter the day through a self-centered lens. Throw in a plumbing issue, and this tendency gets put under a magnifying glass.
I want to become a person of generous love, who gives out of a deep well of settled peace. I know it’s possible—otherwise, we who follow Jesus wouldn’t have been given the instruction to become like Him. I want to be a person who does not worry, because I see how God takes care of flowers and birds and people.
Yet here I am, physically nauseated by inconvenience. I don’t want to ignore the stress that unexpected disruptions bring. What I do want to examine is the part of me that believes that life should generally go the way I want it to. If I continue to believe this, I will be chronically disappointed and unable to adapt when suffering comes my way.
There are glimpses of this person I want to become. I’ve put my phone away and played on the floor. Carter and I have worked hard to be kind to one another in the midst of stress. I’m genuinely grateful for the care and hospitality of friends, and for savings that make an Airbnb and a home repair possible. As I write this, the pump (or whatever!) has not yet been replaced. Thinking through this is one way that I can process the stress so I can go home and be all-in with the people who need me, trusting that I in turn will be given what I need. I get to partner with God as I practice being this person and trust that He will make me, ever so slowly, into a person of self-giving love, whether the toilets flush or not.
So that’s, as they say, what I’ve been thinking about. Here’s what I’ve been…
Reading (follow me on Goodreads for mediocre and inconsistent reviews!): Hello, Beautiful by Ann Napolitano. Holy smokes, this was so good. Four sisters meet a complicated man who ends up impacting the whole family in life-altering ways. This is a book about complex family relationships, filled with heart and grief and the beauty of believing in one another.
Listening: Jesus by Jon Guerra has been a balm over the last few weeks. It’s so soothing and brings the words of Jesus into plain view.
Cooking: This dish was the first thing that came to mind when I thought of cooking in a house that’s not mine. I cannot recommend Caroline Chambers’ legendary Substack enough. This rice and bean skillet requires NO chopping and SO FEW ingredients - a true “jar dump” meal that’s flavorful and cost-effective. You probably have almost everything you need in your pantry to make this at any given moment. I add an extra can of beans because I find the original recipe to be a little rice-heavy. We’ve been eating it all week!
an iykyk if there ever was one
a fun trick of mine is feeling guilty any time I am mad at anyone for anything.