Friday the 13th was a tsunami of bad news. Do you ever have those days? Boom! All at once. I guess it's an efficient delivery, at least. By the end of the day, as Emily prepared for dinner out with a friend, my maternal paranoia set in and I knew I couldn’t deal with one more thing gone wrong. Seeing as it would prove difficult for them to drive around in head to toe bubble wrap, they conceded to the more practical option of Adam chauffeuring, just to make mom happy. I know, statistically it probably didn’t change diddly regarding how the night was destined to shake out, but isn’t it nice to feel like we have some semblance of control? They all made it home safely. Of course, there is no greater illusion than that of control and a final piece of bad news was dispatched a little after 11pm. Unreal. That night I slept hard and long and did not wake until 8:30 the next morning. 8:30! It’s been at least 20 years since I’ve seen such a late start to the day. Man, it’s bright at 8:30 in the morning.
On the 14th I was determined to stay positive and what better way to do so than refill the spice jars. And not just the pleasant but hardly romantic varieties such as garlic, oregano, and the like, but the aromatically transportive spices of the east. Chai spices. You can’t beat the mood lifting therapeutic benefits of a kitchen table covered in cardamom, clove, anise, and more. Better than any spa day I’ve ever known. (Actually, I have no idea what a spa day is like. Maybe replace “known” with “imagined.” That’s better.)
Later, I spent some time catching up on Instagram and noticed Corina left a comment on my dismal Friday the 13th photo - the one featuring cheap swill beer illuminated by our STILL UP Christmas tree. My caption was something along the lines of declaring the utter bullshit of the day, saved only by this still-twinkling tree. Corina, being the kindred that she is, remarked that she “hoped this bottle contains beer, because sometimes when the shit hits the fan, beer and a Christmas tree are the only thing that will save you.”
Isn’t that the truth.
Moving on, I scrolled for a few more minutes and stopped on Chrissy’s post; a photo of her son and two of his chickens with the caption: This is Phillip today watching the girls as they sunned themselves. Now, wind the clock back 15 years when he was diagnosed with his neurological disorder. I asked the doctor “what do you think he will be able to accomplish?” The reply was simple. “I’m not sure what you believe, but this is between him and God.” I knew there were milestones he might never experience. Driving, girlfriend, career, etc. That’s so hard because parents don’t want their children to miss out. Fast forward back to ten minutes ago. Bedtime. Phillip questioned hanging his hat on the bedpost. I told him, “Go ahead. You are a farmer and that’s where farmers hang their hats so they are ready in the morning.” As I watched him hang up his hat, it hit me like a brick! Phillip is a farmer! God made Phillip a farmer. What a beautiful job Phillip has...
Look at that. More truth.
I truly appreciate the redemption of Saturday the 14th.