Thursday, January 17, 2013

How to Ruin a Weekend

Everybody's working for the weekend. Or if you're like me, working hard at eating healthy from Monday morning until around 3:38 Thursday afternoon, the time my brain begins its switch to weekend mode. And it's true, a person can only "count" coffee creamer and measure their Special K for so-many-consecutive days before he or she can no longer be my friend.

But whether it's an ordinary Tuesday morning or a wild-n-crazy Saturday night, I do like Ezekiel bread - especially cinnamon raisin. Lightly toasted and decently buttered? Oh momma. Add a little raspberry Smuckers? Now you're playing my jam. I used to think I could eat about a hundred slices, but it turns out the correct number is seven.

But enough of my Saturday night party habits, because no amount of cinnamon raisin toast could make boo-boos-all-better this past weekend. Those two days could be summed-up in a typical 6th grade paragraph, titled "How to Ruin a Weekend," in which transitional words are used to put ideas into chronological order:

     This is how to ruin a weekend. First, have a kid stop-up a toilet so that it spills over and makes it "rain" from eight different locations in the living room, causing the "cottage cheese" ceiling to pry away in spots (if it wasn't ugly enough). Secondly, save money by buying garage sale furniture that your bad-backed husband attempts to move - all by himself - bringing him severe pain and a bedridden 48 hours. Thirdly, see if your sixteen-year-old, after bending over to get something, can swing her head up fast enough to pop her eyebrow open on a cabinet. And if she does this after the urgent care closes, you'll get to pay the exorbitant ER fee for one little stitch - or fancy surgical glue. Lastly, if your nine-year-old gets to the point where she throws-up 16 times in a ten hour period, things are looking good if your goal is to say "I Heart Mondays." In conclusion, should any of these circumstances happen to you and your loved ones, your weekend will definitely suck*.    

I share all of this to not only make you feel better about your weekend and your non-cottage-cheese ceilings (and to maybe show off my expert paragraph-composition skills), but to also recognize God's presence in each little incident. And I say little because our problems were small potatoes compared to what some people have to endure.

However, Jesus says, "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows." (Matthew10:29-31)

But it's not easy seeing God while holding a throw-up bowl. It's in those times I have to intentionally look for him. And last weekend, he was indeed there, providing a cozy home for my husband to rest his back. He was there, making sure we were home to stop the toilet from flooding endlessly. And he was certainly there, giving my teen daughter an ER doctor who looked a lot like a super cute Ben Stiller..."Hold still while I move-in real close to apply this surgical glue." Perks, I tell you.

*Sorry, Mom. I know you hate that word.

1 comment:

  1. Yes that weekend for sure sucked! Im sorry though I am still laughing at your, "Now you're playing my jam."