I rolled out of bed, tidied my room and bathroom, then flopped into my truck just as four vehicles pulled up. FOUR.
I parked across the street from my house and prayed. And read. And tried to stay awake.
They were really inspecting my house this time. Like, for two hours. Seriously. How closely are they looking when it takes over two hours to go through a regular two storey house? They had brought a carpenter/contractor along with them ... to give them ideas on how to renovate my front entrance. They can't deal with the "wasted" space.
My stomach was a mess. I just knew they were finding all the faults my twenty year old house has. We were going to fail this final exam. I hate failing.
I sat there, in that truck, as the day heated up, and overthought everything.
When they left, I heard the realtor say to his clients, "Have a great day, guys," as he walked past me to get into his car. And then I knew. They would not be getting together later to write up an offer. They didn't like my house. It wasn't perfect. Of course, I made it all about me immediately after that. "They don't like me. They think I've got a dirty house. They don't like the way I've decorated. They think I'm stupid because of my asking price. They looked under the kitchen sink and saw the mildew from the leaking pipe. They tried to open the sliding door and discovered it's a beast to move. They saw the dust on the buffet in the dining room. They think both me and my house are ugly."
They drove away, and I re-entered my precious house. I sat down on my couch and realized that God is in charge of this transaction... and when the family that He has chosen walks through the house, it will be a perfect fit. Just like it was for me and my boys seven years ago.
I closed my eyes and opened them up again two hours later.
My mom called. Apparently, the new (holee hannah, how many new ones are we going to have to deal with?) care aide at my dad's nursing home, shaved off his moustache this morning. SHAVED IT RIGHT OFF like it hadn't been on his face for the past 40 years. That moustache? Has been one of his defining features, just like the turquoise rings on his fingers. He? Was devastated. He moaned and wailed for his loss. He mourned and grieved with volume. And then he got very, very angry.
My mom requested that, for everyone's sake, this new care aide not be allowed to interact with him for awhile. She is not to assist him with grooming, or eating, or anything.
She called to let me know that he was grumpy and difficult and sad and my upcoming visit with him could be challenging.
Oh goodie goodie gum drops.
I wrote in my prayer journal: "God? Why? Why this? Do we really need One More Thing to deal with? When we're not there, we are entrusting him to Your care? (Hahaha. Like, as if, when we're there, we don't need your assistance. Oh the cheek.) Couldn't You have prevented this? Oh, I know, what's a few whiskers? God? It just seems like it's one thing after another. I'm tired of the drama. Could You intercede and smooth things over? Is this about us? Do we need to learn to extend grace and forgiveness? Or do we need to speak up and be angry? I never know that right response? Is it time to fight (for his rights)? Or time to speak words of life and grace? I dunno. I dunno. I dunno."
I got ready for a doctor's appointment. Remember last year when I had a bladder infection for 6 months? Well, apparently my physician requested that I see the local Urologist to rule out anything deadly. So, one year later (today) I have my initial appointment. (Pretty sure if I did have bladder cancer, I'd be way dead by now.)
Why do I get worked up about these things?
Probably because my name is Jane.
What would she ask? What would she do? Would I have to get undressed? What do urologists do during appointments?
I was a wreck by the time I presented myself to the front desk. Seriously. Why can't I be chill?
"So, you had alot of infections last year?"
I nod.
"Could they be linked to sexual intercourse?"
"No," I say very decisively.
"No, because of the timing? You didn't immediately experience discomfort after intercourse?"
"Correct. Intercourse occurred in 1997 and the infection showed up in 2011."
"So? No current sexual activity?"
"None."
Oh my goodness.
"So, what I want to do, is take a look at your bladder. With a small camera. It's not a big deal, kind of like a pap smear. Only different."
"NOW? Like, over there?" I point to the examination bench with the stirrups. You want me to take my pants off now?"
I am a confused, uptight, 51 year old woman whose Samson-like dad just had his manhood hair lopped off, been told (indirectly) that her house is ugly, (which is a reflection of her own personhood), and is too afraid of rejection to apply for another job. I am not emotionally ready to strip down and have a camera inserted into my privates.
She smiles.
"Oh no. That procedure is done at the hospital. It really is no big deal. I put some freezing on your bladder and you won't feel a thing."
"I'll be awake?"
"Honest. Just a little discomfort, but nothing to worry about."
She has no idea who she's dealing with. My legs? Are clenched together as I type this and she's going to need a crowbar and drugs to get me to allow her access. A camera? I don't care how tiny it is.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From there, I head over to the Lodge to bring joy and sunshine to my dad. Which is ironic, no? I feel like I'm carrying around a lead blanket most days, and yet, here I am, with my big wide smile, hoping to cheer up my ol man.
The visit goes unexpectedly well. He refused to eat his dinner earlier, so I spoon-fed him some of mom's pureed borscht. And some of the strawberry milkshake that the Schmidts left for him. And some thickened cranberry juice. He just wanted to go to bed after that, and I could relate. There are days when that's all I want to do too. He didn't mention his missing facial hair, and I didn't bring it up. I did tell him, a number of times, that he did look awfully handsome though.
I kept him up for another hour, and when I left, he seemed at peace. Yay dad. It'll grow back. Proud of you for being brave and accepting it. Or maybe you just forgot. Either way, Yay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seeing I was only 10 minutes away, I hopped over the bridge and stopped in to see Max for a quick visit before heading into Vancouver to see Clint. (Who noticed, while trying to get some music to play in my truck, that the speakers on the right side don't work. Let me say it again, I will NEVER buy a vehicle from a used car lot again. NEVER. In my entire life.) And then, when I got home, Drew stopped by for 5 minutes to close the sliding door for me.
And just like that, my ups and downs mostly evened out.
Well, it WAS even until that small-bird-sized deranged moth flew into my kitchen and started attacking my face. Why my face? I DO NOT KNOW. But it keeps flying right at me.
Not a fan, moth. Not a fan.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1. Answered prayer re: my dad's naked upper lip. And his reaction to it.
2. My mom. She made a huge batch of borscht for my dad. He loves it.
3. The moth is dead.
4. I'm going to see Chris Tomlin tomorrow night.
5. Yellow purses. Turquoise wallets.
Shalom,
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lamentations 3:22-23
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:22-23
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:22-23
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:22-23
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:22-23
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
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