I awoke later than the usual 6 bells this Sunday morning. My duties were light at church (only an interview at the 6th grade Sunday School on what it's like to be a Pastor) -- so I slept in a bit. The first sign that something was awry this day was the sound of what I call Micah's "wheedling" --- a sound somewhere between a whine and a cry that is totally forced, and completely aimed at annoying the person who is denying him his current wish. The situation was dealt with, and then along came Luke.
His cheeks were completely flushed, and his hand was over his left ear. I swept his hot hot body up into my arms and carried him to the bathroom for a dose of Motrin, promising that Daddy would take him to the doctor, and I would check on him as soon as I returned from church.
Having given all the necessary instructions and insurance cards to Eric, I flew out the door, now running late. As I walked up to the garage, the side door was open ... and the car door was hanging open. "Did I forget to close that after I unloaded groceries last night?" I wondered. Then a split second later realized what had happened. The console was all busted up, the ashtray on the passenger seat, and the cup holder in pieces on the floor. The front panel of the stereo was gone.
Ran back to the house, gave Eric the bad news, and then ran off. Nothing like leaving a mess in your spouse's lap. I felt terrible; couldn't concentrate ... At the 6th grade class, I shot off my answers with rapid-fire delivery, and one of the girls' only "question" was, "Wow, you talk fast." So I tried then to slow down and be in the moment, rather than worrying about Eric and the boys. But my head and my gut were in a twisted mess.
Worship was a gift. At the 11:10 contemporary worship, an African American family had come, and their participation in the music, their total, visible engagement in the service reminded me of why we were all there. Songs that might other times get on my nerves, "Yielding," "The Sweet Sweet Presence of Jesus" suddenly spoke to my spirit and soothed me. Pastor Kelly Chatman preached on the wedding at Cana. Jesus invites
everyone to the party, and he makes gallons upon gallons of wine because he wants everyone of us to get our groove on! What a playful, refreshing take on that story.
The news from the doc is that Lukie has
pneumonia. I always feel a twinge of guilt at a diagnosis like this, like, how did this get past me??? He honestly has been his cheery sociable self, except for a nagging cough for a couple of weeks. We spent a lot of time on the couch today, read lots of stories, ... the Zithromax is kicking in, and he'll be fine in a few days, hopefully in time for his
fourth birthday on Wednesday.
So, life goes on ... I must admit that instead of the violation I expected to feel in the face of the break in this morning, I feel a bit smug.
Ha ha, no stereo for you, thug! And honestly? I'm glad the doors weren't locked, because this single-minded thief would have smashed them to get what he wanted. The police confirmed that. If we want to keep thieves out of the garage, we need to install a steel door with a huge bolt (or three). At the moment, it hardly seems worth it. None of our garage
stuff -- hard-earned as it is, seems that important to protect to that degree. Now on our house ... with precious lives enclosed, that's another story.
And at the end of this weird day, I still feel incredibly blessed.
And don't you love the soundOf the last laugh going down?- Mark Knopfler
