day old bread – half price

Way back in the B.C. years (before children), I worked in the customer service field. In our training, we were told that the best way to tell someone something negative is to surround it by the positive. Start with the good, end with the good. Be as specific in detail on the good as you are on the bad. I guess, in a way, Jesus is the greatest customer service representative ever. Through His eyes we are able to see the good, the silver lining, enveloping the not so good.

On blessings:
It snowed Sunday night. It wasn’t much snow. The streets weren’t bad. It was our first taste of the white stuff this year. The kids had a ball. We enjoyed a snowball fight yesterday (even though we had to scrounge every surface to come up with enough snow for it). We all had warm coats, gloves, boots, and hot chocolate for the aftermath. If Norman Rockwell could see us now!

On sorrows:
I. Do. Not. Feel. Well. I am battling a rather sore throat and ear issues. I have a migraine and a sinus headache at the same time. I have a lovely mysterious bruise which I somehow went without noticing for several days. I have insomnia.

The dog has had multiple seizures today, complete with severe loss of bladder and bowel control, in various rooms of the house. One seizure occurred immediately before I went to the vet to refill his anti-seizure meds, the rest waited until after I plunked down the cash – having been forced to cough up for the yearly pet insurance renewal as well.

I am behind on schooling. The kids are bouncing off the walls and in staggered stages of sniffly grumpiness. Our furnace died a week ago, and it looks like it is going to need replacing. We just spent a boatload replacing the chimney liner due to complete decay. The house is a mess; the dishes aren’t done; the laundry keeps growing.

I have moments where I just want to curl up in a ball with a warm blanket and be hugged.

On blessings from sorrows:
Like anger toward one’s children which can vanish in a flash of cuteness, the overwhelmed moments are tempered with comfort. More commonly I hear my inner self just coping. I am not coping with Martha Stewart finesse, or even with the more comedic strength of Erma Bombeck, but I am surviving. More than surviving, though, I am thankful.

I may not feel well, but I have felt much worse with colds in my life. Either I have found new strength to deal with illness this year, or the illnesses haven’t been so severe. Large chunks of the day can go by with successful ignoring of symptoms.

If I didn’t have insomnia, N wouldn’t have had such a wakeful aide to his accidental finger slice last night. J’s nightmares could have gone un-hugged away.

The dog’s seizures were, none of them, on the furniture. I built in catch-up time on the lesson plan before starting the school year. The kids who have already gone through the sickies have recovered pretty quickly, so the germies might not have time to mutate before leaving our abode.

The furnace dying allowed us to find out about the chimney issue, which could have had disastrous consequences if our house was more airtight. We have a gas heating stove in the living room which is managing to keep the house from freezing. All of the money being hemorrhaged away is happening at a time when we actually have it (due to planned upcoming home construction projects).

The messy house, while stressful, serves as a reminder of the multitudinous blessings my children are to me. Case in point: Just as the first in a line of service people arrived today, I looked up to the front door to find that its back side was covered with smeared dirt. The perfect imprint of two little gloved hands stood out on the right panel about three feet from the ground. Those little hands won’t stay small for long. Before I can blink, I will have worked myself out of a job.

Even in the moments when I want to curl up with that blanket, I am not alone.

God has given us so much. Yes, I am thankful.