Maybe it started with Sookie Stackhouse. Maybe it started with Matt Parkman. Maybe it started with Tami Marshall in the third grade who claimed she was a mind reader. I’m not really sure.
I freak out because I think people can read my mind.
Are my thoughts really THAT bad? You bet they are! Ha! While I’m not contemplating cooking babies in microwaves or blowing up nursing homes with explosives made from baby whale blubber, my mind is no place for the easily offended or naïve. I often wonder what people would really think of me if they knew the tangled mess of a woman below the presentable exterior.
I’ve laughed out loud at myself more than once in the past few weeks as I’ve had panic induced inner conversations that went something like this: “She really should think about joining the gym. At this rate her thighs aren’t going to fit in the driver’s seat of that pretentious SUV and her husband is going to start sleeping with his secretary by Christmas. Oh god, I can’t believe I just thought that to myself. I hope she didn’t hear me think that. That’s stupid; of course she didn’t hear me think that. But what if she did? Is she looking at me weird? You’re a big fat cow lady! No reaction. She’s not a mind reader. Whew, that was close.”
This week I caught myself testing people to check for telepathy. Dad is not a telepathic. He didn’t elbow me one time for thinking the f-word during church. (I told you I’m a bad person! LOL) Canaan is not a telepathic. Her room is still a mess and the Playdoh is still all over the living room table. My boyfriend might be a mind reader… the jury is still out on him. Whenever I mentally tell him to look at me, he already is – I know… “Awww.”
And then there is Will. I’m pretty certain that my son has selective telepathy that matches his selective hearing. Right now I’m mentally willing him to get off the back of the couch and put his cape (a.k.a. my black Vegas dress) back in my closet. He’s ignoring me. However, this morning over breakfast I asked him (with my mind), “Will, if you can hear me, tell Mommy you love her.” He furrowed his brow and verbally replied, “Quit looking at me like that. You’re cweeping me out… I love you.”
I couldn’t make this stuff up. You’re going to laugh when you catch yourself giving Will the telepathy test.
Don’t worry; your thoughts are safe around me. Are you telepathic? I need to know. NOW.
Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Phil. 4:8
