This very song had me meditating so deeply, I didn’t hear my poor husband-stranded on the roof-screaming at the top of his lungs and/or banging the hell out of our tin roof to get my attention. I had a bad feeling when he went up to clean the chimney; I prayed and gave it to the Prince of Peace. I was so trusting that I didn’t hear the commotion outside or upstairs. LOL My poor husband.
I don’t know what broke the trance, but I do know that suddenly I heard this bizarre, antagonizing and hopeless cry out into the wild. It took me minutes to realize that it was the sound of my husband, screaming like a banshee, from the roof-directly above me. It seems he had lost hope of survival, as he was stranded on the roof-the ladder his father had just made him did not look like a good way to get back on the ground. His hair straight up on end (I kid you not) he hoarsely asks for the metal ladder in the garage. As I run at warp speed to his assistance, he loudly whispers:
Mildly alarmed, I stop in mid-run like a cartoon character and scream:
WHAT DO YOU NEED ME TO DO?????????????
I feel the nudge of hysteria in my very being. I am close to tears, no, I am crying. I have a cold, it’s freezing outside, and my husband has become something neither he or I recognize-his head looks freakishly large as he screams back:
“Hold the m***f*** ladder my dad made!!!!”
And phew! He is down, and life returns to normal
The funniest part of this is that I am on top of everything around here. Like my Irish mother, God bless her soul, I am prone to making a bit of a big deal about the little stuff. You know, you’re in a mood and the frig door won’t shut, the jeans won’t zip, the scales of justice can be maddening. But in the event of a real Kleinfeltersville 911? I am always the last person to be upset, and always the last to know there is an emergency.
- While I’m in Twitter jail, I may as well make fun of Acosta in my blog.
You guys are not going to believe this, buttttttt, I had to stop writing two hours ago, as I was interrupted by my golden retriever: he was flailing around to get my attention, and I, as ever, in my own Private Idaho, failed to notice that the house was full, and I mean FULL of smoke. I ran into the kitchen, howled like a wolf, and ran aimlessly from room to room-forgetting to open windows, unable to find my phone. I run to the front porch: my husband and son are just over the hill, in a goose blind-they will hear me scream. If they don’t, surely my in-laws will hear! This goes absolutely nowhere, and I am unable to be in the house-my throat is raspy, my eyes tearing at whim.
I find my phone, pray he has it. He answers.
“The house is full of smoke, get home,” I say, firmly.
“Seriously?,” he is folksy in the moment, “I could have sworn….”
I cut him off.
I use my Coxswain voice, he ends the phone call.
And so it was that he got home just in the nick of time. I looked up and thanked my Lord and Savior, checked on the felines, gave myself a talking to.
There is a lesson here for me, and perhaps for you; the very reason I wrote this blog. We truly cannot take our eyes off of Jesus-not for even a moment too long. When we do, heartaches we had long ago given to God? They have a way of creeping back up on you at the most inappropriate of times. You begin to realize you are feeling pain and grief-the loss of a sister, the yearn for your kin, the love we never had a snowball’s chance in hell of giving.
Pain is God’s way of molding us, growing us into better followers of Christ-but we were never meant to carry the burdens alone. Fix your eyes on Jesus, and keep the dark shadows at bay~