We Are Not Done Here.

So the last week has been a titch (local slang for ‘little bit’) difficult. First our dear Timothy had a ginormous seizure and fell down the stairs and we ended up calling 911. Then, a job we really thought Blair had, did not happen after all.  Then, our van died.  We have towing, so we were able to have it towed from the middle of nowhere to a local shop. We’re still waiting to hear how bad/serious/nothing actually it is.  THEN, Blair lost his glasses.  Seriously?? We searched the house and yard. We searched the Jeep. We searched the garbage. I personally searched every drawer and hamper. Melinda searched every toy box, cubby and closet.  With every viable search option exhausted….several times, Blair decided to make chocolate ice cream shakes for the kids, and I went to bed.

Ah, a fresh day. Everything looks better in the morning. So, I got the idea to knock on the neighbors doors on the off chance that maybe someone saw the lost glasses in our front yard and picked them up and was waiting for the rightful owner to come forward and claim them.  I knocked on the first door, and woke up a scraggly teenaged boy. He claimed ignorance. I questioned a pajama-clad youngster (I’m thinking in the 4 yr old range) who said he had seen glasses, but when questioned further was deemed an unreliable witness. I moved to the next house. I asked a young girl (I know she’s 5) on the front porch if there were grown ups at home and was told no. The front door opened to a 12 yr old girl who contradicted her statement and left to retrieve an adult.  The adults listened thoughtfully to my problem but had not seen the glasses.

As I walked back toward my house, I stopped every child on the way and asked about the glasses. Finally, one girl said, “Yes! We had them! They are over there!” She pointed to a yard across the street, about 3 houses away. I asked her to get them, and she did.  Success! The lenses looked intact, but water spotted. I think they are going to be ok.

I was saying how I feel done. I even used the phrase, “Stick a fork in me, ’cause I am done!” I have also wondered what the heck Karma/God/The Universe is thinking givng me all this crap in the same week.

I heard a story about a guy who stuttered and wished with all his heart to have it somehow be cured. Fixed. Gone. He spent years begging God and worrying about it. He realized, looking back, that instead of enjoying his life, he had spent all his time worrying about this problem instead of enjoying his life. Now, I think that our life would be easier to enjoy if Blair had a job, Timothy stopped having seizures and nothing ever went wrong with van or fridge ever again. But that’s probably not going to happen. So, what if I just try to enjoy my life? What if instead of begging God to solve my problems I asked him to help me deal with them? Instead of announcing how done I am every 5 minutes, I could be a ‘titch’ bit less wimpy.

Hmmm. I’m going to have to think about that one. God might miss my whining:)