It starts with a feather…and then you’re given a penny and with that a pebble, and ever so slowly it grows with a heavy ache. Your hands are full, your heart is thick with hurt, and the shadows of your worries show within the corner of your eyes. Just when you think you can’t bear to hold anything else, God places a crater on your back. Maybe if you believe hard enough, if you pray long enough, if you look through all the pieces for the good, then maybe you will find whatever message he is trying to send to you. God must love me so much to test me like this.
Worst week ever? Starts with your son at his follow up appointment for his double ear infection, guess what, he still has a double ear infection. Oh, so the diarrhea that he experienced for 10 days on the previous medication has now been extended for another 10 days?
The worst week continues with your daughter, her first week out of school because you need to save money, playing make pretend in the living room with “Eva”. Who’s Eva? With a sad voice, chin perfectly tucked into her neck, big round eye’s looking up at me, “She my friend from school”. Insert guilt…anywhere.
Let’s not leave out the oldest, of course not, it starts with a detention because…he forgot his homework… again. And just when I thought the detention would trigger some sort of desire to succeed, fast forward two days, and yes, we forget again. Let’s end with the ADD meltdown because mom has decided it’s time to earn back all our privileges which includes bed time, electronic time and possibly even a new haircut. Why, because apparently I wake up every morning thinking of things to do to make my 12 year olds life miserable.
But how could it be the worst week without including my own resentments? No I have not forgotten. 10 years with my company, a decade already gone at the tender age of 32. I didn’t get a phone call to say Happy Anniversary; I didn’t even get an email. I’ve worked under a brick ceiling (forget the glass) and micromanaged because the boss needs to feel important and finally I saw a tiny little light. Redeployment is when we continue to work for the same company but move into a different position. Redeployment should always be spelled in gold letters. I’ve applied for 9 jobs, and I finally got a call for an interview. I was petrified. I loved the office and I loved the people and when I left I felt something spark, a small flame, something that had burnt out so long ago. I wanted this job. 6 days later, I got a lovely email telling me that I wasn’t what they were looking for.
I cried out my week of frustration on Thursday night, I took a bath and then… I ate nachos. I went to the gym 4 times that week so a different approach was much needed. But then I woke up at 2am and the left side of my face and neck were swollen. The walk-in confirmed my strep throat and by noon on Friday, the fever and chills had set in, my skin hurt. Getting sick and juggling kids is when the super hero in any mother needs to comes out. When I would rather be face first on the couch with vicks and chicken soup, I manage to find an ounce of energy to get the kids into their pjs, to lift a spoon to the baby’s mouth and to press the power button on the remote (and then whisper a special thanks to God for On-Demand). My family is my saving grace; keeping the kids late so I could rest Friday with the hopes that daddy would be home. Unfortunately I “scheduled” my sick time right in the middle of the holiday rush so 6pm came and went and then 7 and at 7:45 when all were changed and Carson and I were rocking each other in the rocking chair, daddy came home. Daddy then forgot to do the dishes and then worked until 8:30 the next evening. Auntie came by Saturday morning and brought the kids to breakfast with Santa. Shortly after the kids came home, my fever broke (thank you lord) and slowly we got through the rest of the day. When I woke up on Sunday the first thing I did were the dishes. I had high hopes that Sunday would be a much needed day of family and holiday cheer. My worst week was not over. I was supposed to make cookies and Adam was going to decorate the tree with the kids. Marriage is hard. It is my hardest test and I don’t want to fail my God. I know what it’s like to grow up with a dad that isn’t around all the time. I know what it’s like to be a rebellious and angry teenage daughter…I do not know what it’s like to have one…but if my husband continues down the path of broken promises, I’m pretty sure God is going to let me find out.
So it’s now Monday morning. I wake up to a naked tree and sugar cookies sitting on the counter waiting to be decorated. It’s a new day but my heart is still heavy with all of these worries and I have no where to put them. I think maybe I can get lost at work, go to the gym and then decorate some cookies with the kids tonight. Maisie’s excitement is enough to make me smile.
The crater to my worst week ever came in an email, conveniently while I was trying to get lost at work. My realtor tells me that my short sale on my home has fallen through. The bank wants more money and the buyer has decided to walk away. Emotion is a very powerful thing, your heart clearly doesn’t have the capability to fall down two rungs in your rib cage but that is exactly what happened. At that moment when my head fell perfectly into my cradled hands, I stopped seeing two footprints in the sand. It has been so long since God has had to carry me but I don’t think I can walk on my own right now.
The emotion from this week begins to bubble over and in spurts there are tears. Tears you may see a crazy person burst into at any given moment. A blubbering mess speaking in tongues and the only words you can make out are Eva, cookie and house. Tears, in my case, that are quite obviously due to the mixture of events that have occurred in only just a few days. I’m sure even passer-by’s questioned my sanity as I had a mini temper tantrum in the office bathroom.
I am only human and maybe this crater is the cross I have to bear. I’m sure I will get sick again and it will land on some sort of inconvenient work day and I will need to fend for myself. I’m sure the job was just not meant to be and I was only in love with the idea of it. I have 8 more applications. My home is but a material thing, it’s the pride that went into it that I will grieve the most. I’m sure the kids will find loop holes that form some sort of resentment towards me whenever the need arises, and I’m okay with that. As God kindly reminded me, as if to end a letter with PS to my worst week, on Wednesday after I made a call to 911 because my youngest couldn’t discreetly swallow a pine needle, I should appreciate the meltdowns and temper tantrums. The mother’s and father’s of this world who’s little ones have gone before them would be overjoyed to have a child with diarrhea if it meant one more second with them. Above all of this, I’m absolutely sure that no marriage goes without its own crater. I have learned that in order to get change, we must first look within ourselves. With all of my worries and no where to put them I have no choice but to face them, learn from them and be thankful that God believes I am strong enough to handle it all.
