It all worked out

I forgot to write about this earlier in the week. On December 1, I mailed out a big Christmas package to my friend in Atlanta. I never do this. I always have Amazon take care of it and have her do the wrapping. That way I can guarantee it gets there. And, I like free shipping.

OK, I should've led with that. I like free shipping first.

Regardless, I sent out the box to the tune of $18.75 two day priority to arrive by December 4. By December 11, the package was "in transit." This does me a bunch of no good. And then you begin to read story after story about how the USPS is completely backlogged.

And so as I wasted an hour of sleep worrying about this, I resolved on Monday to pray once that God would make it work out or, that the insurance will cover most of it. I let it go.

Funny then, as the text chime on my phone went off and I wondered- then looked - and I got delivery confirmation that it arrived yesterday, one day before I needed it to be there. Just as I hoped it would all work out to be. And today, I even got a phone call from the Marietta post office. In the middle of all this, some tired, worn out woman, still checked up on my package.

Of which to say this has nothing to do with what my post is about but has everything to do with how things work out.

About two weeks ago I happened to be at the right place at the right time. I was overhearing a conversation from the school counselor and the principal discussing how to add in one more family to the operation Christmas child, after the program wad already closed. Postulations and wondering, I quite literally interrupted their conversation and said "I'll take a family!"

And I was supposed to get one girl, a sixth grader at my son's school. Slam dunk. But as luck would have it, I continued to talk to the school counselor who is retiring tomorrow. It was one her final things to wrap up. She had to continued to push with the mother to find out there were two more children not on the list. Of course I said I would take them. And then I went for a cocktail conference call with my beloved Girl Scout ladies.

And yes, absolutely, they said they would take the other two kids. So just like that all three kids who are not supposed to make the list were squarely on it.

OK, so cute and quaint and lovely. And per usual, the story doesn't end there. 

The list arrived on Monday of their wishes. It was not gratuitous, it was not outlandish, it was mild and sweet. And it was heart wrenching because the five-year-old and a two-year-old had bedsheets on their wish list.

 My two friends easily took care of it, but needed to know what size sheets to purchase so I had to inquire with the school counselor again. Revision to email arrived not less than an hour later but now oddly enough, the list now included sheets for the mother and the 12-year-old girl.

Hmm. OK. We certainly can swing it, but it wasn't necessarily in my initial budget. I had already spent all the money on the presents for the girl.

But there's no way I'm going to let bedsheets not be unwrapped at Christmas. For the love of all that is holy, everyone deserves a pair of sheets.

And I went to Amazon and I added another two sets of sheets to my cart and let it be done. And then went to check my email, and found that an odd email had come from Walmart. Apparently they owed me a credit. It didn't make sense but I checked my credit card, and alas, there was an extra $70 refunded to my credit card.

Just like that, the sheets were paid for.

Say what?

Where millions of packages are going to arrive late. Mine arrived with 24 hours to spare. Sure, I planned ahead and mailed it on December 1. But still. My plea at 2 AM on a sleepless night did not go unanswered.

Where the budget has been spent, but leaning in and trusting that supporting this family was the right thing to do… Immediately it was rewarded with extra money that miraculously appeared.

This, by far, is my favorite thing to write about. When the story doesn't end where you think it does, or there's always some blessing or provision or learning lesson to be had. The unexpected kind. The kindness of my girlfriends, the perfect timing of a conversation I really was not meant to overhear. And 100 other little things that add up to the goodness of life. Even in the middle of the pandemic.

Hallelujah. It is well with my soul. 

What To Do

So what do you do when you feel like you've pretty much at the end of your rope?

What do you do when you are mentally and physically exhausted, When I can't seem to take another minute, want to kill the dog, run around like Kevin McAllister in Home Alone like a crazy person or simply find a blanket, crawl under, and not come out until next year?

Pray.

And really, it's not always been easy for me. It's supposed to be some grandiose prayer. Or so I think.  But I was reminded today as I offered some counsel to a sweet girl who needed it… That sometimes the most simplest prayers are the ones that gave the biggest impact.

Help. 

Thanks. 

Wow. 

I told her that sometimes just muttering the word over and over again is quite simply enough for God.

Last night when I couldn't take it anymore, and didn't even know how to find one thing to be grateful for, I turned out of my desk chair to see the sun and its final setting moments. I was muttering Help. And got Wow. 

Downright glorious. 

And wildly unexpected for the middle of December. It was there but I found my spot. And it was this morning that I could offer wise advice.

Wow. Help to be sure. And thanks. Indeed. 

My Pack Rat

My beloved husband, he might be a little bit of a packrat. Only occasionally, don't get me wrong. For the most part it's pretty cool stuff. Models he's created, paintings he's done, dreams and wishes of his youth. But it also contains four large Rubbermaid totes of Star Wars items.

So, when watching the Mandalorian and hollering out every ship or fighter or a trooper or what not… He then comments somewhere under his breath "I think I have one of those!"

His daughter then squeals with the light and forces him to pause the movie, go downstairs and find it.

This is Bobba Fett's ship, Slave 1. From 1981. 

And the smile of a vindicated husband who was happy he saved all his stuff.

His Tears

When my son cries, my heart breaks.

I'm sure it's the same for many moms.

All the protection and love and compassion - and then he cries and I can't fix it for him. And my heart doesn't know what to do. 

He was terrified to show us seven weeks of school work that he's been amassing in his backpack.

Terrified.

Shaking and sobbing..."I'm so so scared you'll be disappointed in me."

Hear me that we love on this manchild like no other. With reckless abandon.

His need to have his bucket filled is daily - and his bucket is deep - fraught with worry. Worry to the point where sometimes I can't grab him back from the brink fast enough. 

It's not about a lack of love or attention.

It's unadulterated anxiety.

That somehow he can't control or verbalize - and I can't snag him from the pit he sends himself to.

He was filled with fear and shame we wouldn't be happy with his work.

Which was all A's and B's. And "Good Job!" and "Well Done."

"Bubba, what in here makes you worried?" I say.

"I don't know," he sniffs and sobs and heaves.

"Is there something in here that I should be concerned about?" I follow.

"No," he mutters.

My arms can't hug him tight enough. I can't grab enough tissues. I can't solve it or fix it. I can just be present.

He has to battle back on his own. With copious amounts of quiet tones, gentle hugs, thumbs wiping tears from cheeks rosy with heat.

It took him a good 20 minutes to breathe clearly.

Ten more to have the rosy cheeks subside.

He made it. He came back. 

But oh, my torn-up heart.

The 11:55pm Arrival

My BFF lamented today. This is the last of our Internet memories that remind us that we have taken a trip together for the last 5 to 10 years or so. Every time in late November or early December.

I miss her so much it hurts.

I will see her again, perhaps even for a short visit over the holidays. When you've been friends for 24 years, a few months is nothing but a blip on the radar.

But I saw a plane fly overhead. And I'm reminded of our time together and my arrival back into the airport. The 11:55 PM slot on Delta from Atlanta.

I'm usually exhausted, it's been a whirlwind. I won't know when I'll see her again. Sometimes it's a few weeks later sometimes it's not until spring break.

But I will have loved every second of it. And this year, I don't get that chance. Somewhere deep down inside there's some lesson to that. But right now, I long for the days to hear the pilot overhead, the final descent into the airport, baggage claim and ground transportation.

One day soon. Here's hoping.

Doing that Thing

I got a chance to do that thing I love to do- hang out in a flower shop and decorate. Again!

This time for a pretty notable family. With egregious amounts of money. Like I am unpacking $40 Christmas ornaments in cases of 12.

With a 17 foot Christmas tree, and more ornaments than I have ever seen in my life. But oh my goodness, it was glorious and gorgeous and wonderful!

Of course you can't take pictures, there are privacy agreements and not disclosures. But the experience was enough to make me giddy. 

Sometimes those little nudges of dreams coming true actually become reality. 

Yay!

Drop Off

A couple of years ago I began to giggle at my cousin who said she was wearing down a path from our neighborhood up to the middle school and high school. Constant trips up and down the major road, back-and-forth, forgetting this, needing that.

I laughed thinking that my little hamlet of my neighborhood and our elementary school kept me within a good half mile square piece of land.

Late Sunday night, we got the plan together about what we would do when Bubba couldn't get Bus Service this week. It's a critical shortage, Covid is putting a huge damper on transportation and his route was suspended for one week. I also happen to work at Bubba's school during the middle of the day. So first it's a trip down to drop him off. Then it's my errands. Then it's back to the school to work. Then it's back to school at the end of the day to pick him up.

That road that I teased my cousin about… That road and I...we are going to come best friends this week!

Oooof!