Weekend Wasteland

Yesterday, I decided to finish sorting out D's office because I apparently believed I was fine, fine, everything is fine. And why should these things bother me anymore? I knew it had been more than a year since losing him. That was my lame-o train of thought.

Denial: it's not just a river in Egypt.

When I realized my emotional energy was flooding out of my body after only 20 minutes of box rummaging, I did the math. Total? 15 months. Drat. I thought at least 15 years had passed since July 2009. It feels like that, anyway.

The question was not "Did I take a nap from emotional exhaustion?" on Saturday. It was "How many naps did I take?"

I decided after the second nap, I should just get out a little bit so Saturday wasn't a total waste. I went to see the movie, "Waiting for Superman", a documentary on the failing schools of America. As a teacher, I knew this was a risky choice. These filmmakers can tend to paint things with a pretty broad brush. But watching real children who lost charter school lotteries that doomed them to their failing neighborhood schools? Heartbreaking. I left in tears and decided I'd swing by a nearby Barnes and Noble that D and I used to enjoy visiting.

I was on a roll for bad emotional choices. Why not one more? A Saturday late night visit without D did not evoke the warm and fuzzy. Went home, gave up on the day, and hoped a good night's sleep would refresh me for a better Sunday.

That plan worked well through a good cup of coffee over the Sunday paper. It fell apart getting ready for church. I discovered that my new contact lens solution must be used in its tubular container and not my old-school flat container. Apparently the solution had not neutralized and: OUCH! I ripped out my contact and tried to make it to church. About halfway through the music service, I knew I needed to get home and flush out my eye with water. Or rip it out. Which ever relieved the pain first.

Many eye washes later, and I decided a nap must be coming on. Again. I consoled myself that the day would not be a total loss: trick-or-treaters would be coming by later.

I had my candy out and not one but FOUR jack-o-lanterns lit in the front yard. And I waited for the doorbell to ring. But it didn't. I finally opened the door to peer out into the night and saw five small costumed bodies heading down my sidewalk toward the street. Seems my doorbell wasn't working. When they returned to my front door, I piled the candy into their bags. "I LOVE CANDY!" one little fairy enthused. I told her she was out on the right night.

I put a note on my front door that said "Please KNOCK", and waited for more visitors. Again, I finally opened the door and peered outside. To see several disappointed small figures leaving my yard. Oops. Forgot three year olds can't read, and the parents wait out at the street. I just dumped the rest of my candy into their waiting bags and called it a night.

I did find one more new scrap of paper that D had left behind. I'll be carrying it with me tomorrow to remind me things will continue to get better. He'd written down II Chronicles 20:17:

"You will not have to fight this battle. Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the LORD will give you, O Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Go out to face them tomorrow, and the LORD will be with you."

Amen and Amen. Looking forward to a better Monday.