Friday, September 9, 2011


I have so much to write about, but my days have been so full lately, that at the end of them, i haven't found the inspiration to take the time to write.  I think i'm going to have to start from some point and just keep telling you stories until life gets boring again, and i can't think of anything to say.

At what point should i attempt a beginning?  Maybe ... Labor Day Weekend.

Yes, that's the best i think.

Remember, this was to be our big remodel before my hero hubby had to leave town.  He took off work on Thursday and Friday, which would give him five solid days to create a whole new bathroom for us. 

To push past the boring part of this story, let's just say that my hero hubby worked long and hard, slept little, and didn't get as far as fast as he would've liked.  There were setbacks and frustrations.

At some point during the weekend, my darling fell into what i perceived to be full on panic.  "There's no way this will get done!  What are we going to do?" were the pleas of my darling, whom i encouraged and cheered on.  I convinced him, i guess, that it was all going to work out. 

Until Monday, when i learned that i had encouraged him right out of explaining to me that we really weren't going to get done and that we needed to figure out what to do.

My eternal optimism checked, I started considering the possibilities.  We did have a couple of possible plans that included partial tile, an installed toilet, and showers at a friend's house.  But when we tried repeatedly to prime our well, without success, we both began to entertain nightmares about digging a new well (since we need something extra to do right now), and we gave up completely on the bathroom.  I did some crying, and we stopped to consider calmly and seriously what we should do next.

My experience so far with telling this story has proven to me that i don't tell it very well.  I haven't figured out how to convey the significance of what happened at that exact moment.

From outside the house, a car horn. 



My husband went to see who it was while i stayed in the house and cried.  (Yes, i do like trouble, but mostly from a hindsight position.)

"You should go talk to this lady," my husband said when he came back in much sooner than i expected him.  "You should go talk to her."

Charli is a lady who lives in my neighborhood.  I know her from our neighborhood "Ladies' Coffees" that i used to attend before i went back to work in the big city.  We had seen her and her family in town the day before and said hello and explained our horrible appearance and that we were remodeling the bathroom.

I would describe Charli as a very outgoing and straight forward 60ish year old red headed woman, about whom i knew very little else, if that much.  And at this moment in the story, she was standing in my driveway looking kind of nervous and determined all at once.

"Hi Charli.  How are you?" i greeted her weakly through unveiled snot face.

I don't remember exactly what she said here, so i'm going to make it up.

"We're renovating a piece of property nearby, and we wonder if you all would like to house sit while you're working on your house?  Would you like to come see it?"

She did say something to the effect of the above,which i heard in between, "it's good to cry," "you go ahead and cry," and something about understanding about these things.  Then i kissed this near stranger, whom i assumed must be the very hand of God delivering me from my troubles, on the face, and followed her to her property.

After conversation, less snotface, and careful consideration, arrangements and plans were made, without my even trying. 

Just like that.

As it turns out, the house sitting property isn't quite ready to be lived in, so i've been cared for in Charli's own home in the mean time, where i feel welcomed and trusted and peaceful.  And i'm making new friends i mightn't have made without the trouble.

And i know that i am resting in the kind hand of God.

The next day, another angel came and fixed our well before i even got home from work.

I guess i should've stuck to my eternal optimism, which should better be labeled proven trust in God.


  1. Such a great post. You are a wonderful story teller, Beth!!!


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