Sometimes I Forget Things

Sometimes I forget things, although never my car keys. I've had the same keyring for about 19 years. Its very nice. My younger brother got it for me when I was in high-school. I remember being completely shocked, and pleased, that he picked it out for me.

But, there are things that I definitely forget. Things that I take for granted. Things that get buried beneath piles of everydayness.

I was thinking about the military, which led me to think of our friend Rob who was in the military, which made me think of the whole incident with the lump in the middle of the road. See, Rob and Tina and family were at our house for dinner. (They have very nice well-behaved children that I enjoy my children being exposed to) I looked across out backyard through the chainlink fence to the apartment entrance on the road behind our house. There was a lump in the road. Something wasn't quite right ... lump? ... THATS A CHILD. Sure enough, there was a child about eight years old curled up in a fetal position not moving in the middle of the cold street. Rob was military for a long time, my husband was an MP. While calling 911, it was almost surreal to see the two of them fall into lockstep in a mad dash across the yard, and then see them flip over the tall fence like they were synchronized swimmers. Even in that horrifying moment, it struck me like a ton of bricks that I am so familiar with my husband being a relaxed sweet laid-back kinda guy that I forget completely that he can be a real bad-ass. (Yeah, there's some language. Present me with some language that gets the same vibe across and I'll appreciate it. But, that seems to capture the moment for me. Plus, I don't think that many children read my site) Note: The boy had a skateboarding accident, and had the wind knocked out of him. His mother arrived shortly. He was fine. If kids ARE reading this site, the moral of the story is "DON'T PLAY IN THE STREET".

I started thinking about other things I forget. Ironically, I also forget that my husband is extra-relaxed and supportive. Go figure! Talking with friends, their husbands pitch fits when they want to paint rooms non-traditional colors. When I start second-guessing myself and my color choices, my husband points out "its just paint, go for it". That said, he was really right to suggest a brighter red in the entry way. True, today I'm applying the FOURTH coat of paint, but the more vivid color is definitely worth it. My parents are going to die when they see it when they visit in a few weeks! I have NOT forgotten their adage that all rooms should be white or ivory.

I've heard people say that if God gave them a miracle, an indisputable sign of some kind, that they would change fundamentally. That they'd never forget. But the Israelites forgot time and again, and I do too.

I forget about God a lot. For whatever reason, He gave me a few miracles, and I forget anyway. I get caught up in television and pop-culture, in politics and car-pools and cook-outs and remodeling and yardwork and the flu. I suppose, in a way, I want to forget miracles. How weird is that!?!

If I remember the miracles, I have to wonder why I got some and my friends didn't (and there were certainly those that deserved them more). There must have been some reason. God isn't overly random, according to my understanding. If there were a reason, something that required me to be alive to the point that divine intervention was necessary ... isn't there some small sense of responsibility to not drop the ball? some very extra-small sense of destiny? why me? why not Sheri? I know God has a plan for our lives, but why then did I get a long-range plan, and Sheri get a plan that let her die of cancer young?

I'm under no illusion that I'm destined for greatness. But sometimes I think about William Churchill's mother. I doubt she sat around, feeding her 18 month old baby-boy mashed peas and thinking that one day he'd save the free world (for all intents and purposes). What if she had died before he was born? Occasionally, when VERY very sleep-deprived, I look at my children and shudder to wonder what could possibly be so very important in the future that my death was unacceptable. Or maybe I have some small action in the chain of the Butterfly Effect (butterfly wings flapping in Africa causes a hurricane in Florida, ie small actions cause ripples). I try to forget those thoughts as soon as it crosses my mind. Speculating ... that way lies madness.

Other things that I forget ... that this is supposed to be a happy-fluffy-bunny-kinda-blog. How's THAT for a segue? (Sorry, thats the best you're going to get during a free-flowing-random-writing post)

Here's a freebie, a happy thought to send you on your way: I asked Lee (age 5 now) to bring me something from the other room while I was working on the computer. He looked up at me, totally serious, and suggested very gently but firmly "Mama, I think you need to learn to do some things for yourself".

Waves
 
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