Category: God Moments

Being the person in charge of something involving the trust of others is never an easy role.  For the better part of the last six months I have been keeping the registration records for an upcoming charity event.  It is my first time in this particular job but I’ve worked on these types of projects since I was in high school and that is more years ago than I’d care to admit.  My personality leads itself to the minutia of administrative duties and I revel in the charms of Excel spreadsheets. I developed a spreadsheet for my event to include all the pertinent information for each invitee including a little bit about each one, their contact information and notes recording each time I either attempted to reach them or heard from them.

The initial invitations to our event were mailed out in April to all previous participants, some by email when I had the address while the others were sent by the US Postal system.  And while, I was a little nervous about my invites ending up in SPAM boxes, I was pretty confident the US Mail wouldn’t let me down.

As I became aware of new possible participants, they too were added to my list and invited in whatever way possible, via email, Facebook, Etsy, or snail mail.  From the point that invitations were offered, I occasionally  followed up if I had an email address because it was expedient and I have also assumed the cost of all paper, ink and stamps.

To my delight, my sheet grew from about thirty names to over one hundred and thirty, all documented as to when they were invited, where my committee first met them and if and when they responded.  Because of this attention to detail, my event was filled in short order and I have continued to add names to both my waiting list and mailing list for next year.  I was feeling pretty good about my efforts until yesterday afternoon.

I received a call from someone wanting to participate.  Their group had been long time participants in our event and an invitation had been sent through the mail in April since the only contact information I had was a street address.   I checked my spreadsheet and confirmed the mailing address and date the invite was sent but I’d received no response.

I offered to place them on the waiting list because with a finite number of spaces, that was all I could do. Not liking my answer, I was subjected to a long tirade claiming they were the injured party due to my lack of organization. Before I could get another word in, the line went dead leaving my in the  uncomfortable funk that I have been trying to exorcise for the past twenty-four hours.

I’ve told myself over and again that the reason I received the blunt end of this abuse was because this person felt that their group had been let down by their failure to act in a more timely manner.   I can understand that.  If the roles had been reversed, I know I would have felt terrible but I hope I wouldn’t have unleashed that frustration on someone else.  And if I had, I hope I would have regained my senses quickly enough to stop and apologize.

In a few days I’m certain the sting of this experience will fade but I hope the memory of it will keep me in check if the feeling of “giving someone a piece of my mind” begins to overtake me.  I wouldn’t want to leave anyone feeling the way I do today.

There is only so much control anyone can have over their personal health.  For the past two weeks I have been focused on my new Weight Watcher’s plan and exploring all the foods I haven’t thought about eating to avoid missing those I’ve limited in my diet.  And, I am happy to report that two weeks into my journey I am down a total of nine pounds from where I began, although to be fair, my starting weight was with clothes and my subsequent weigh-ins have been in my birthday suit.  All in all, I am pleased with the results, happy about the ease of the new plan structure and optimistic that these changes will be reflected in my next blood work in a couple of months.

This feeling of taking control of myself has had a positive effect on other areas of my life as well.  I’m finding that I’m more proactive about all the stuff I have going on in my life and the plates are spinning pretty well.  (For younger readers, I am referring to acts shown on TV variety shows from decades ago where performers would balance a number of plates and sticks atop their heads, hands feet, etc., and keep them all spinning at the same time.)  Instead of letting my tasks and errands pile up in the “to do” list and feeling anxious about it, I am prioritizing better and shedding all negative feelings about what I haven’t accomplished.

Sounds great doesn’t it?  Well, it is.  Being in control of our own lives is what we all hope for.  There is one small hitch to the deal though, we can never be in total control.  No matter how much we may feel we are in charge, the smallest thing can have an incredible impact on our well being, something as small and seemingly insignificant as an insect.

This past Saturday, Dave and I had our reality check when he noticed the inside of his lower left leg was hot, swollen and red and clear red lines were making their way from his knee to the lymph nodes in his groin.  Surprise!  The truly bizarre part of this story was that we were headed to the ER that morning anyway because Dave had had a fever, chills and abdominal pain the evening and night before.

The ER doc was stumped.  She had blood drawn from both sides of his body, got a urine sample and even ordered a cat-scan.  His white blood count was two and a half higher than normal but there was no sign of a UTI.

In the end, she concluded we were dealing with two separate infections, probably prostatitis and cellulitis.  Dave was hooked up to an IV and given some antibiotics and then prescribed mega doses of two other antibiotics to take for another couple of weeks.  Three hours later, we were home.

As a 60 something year old man, prostatitis is not uncommon and given how quickly men tend to respond to illness, (they seem to lack the innate triage ability women seem to possess) it was not all that surprising it had become an issue.  The cellulitis was altogether different.  It seemed to suddenly appear without any warning.  Where did it come from? Without the evidence of a point of origin, the doctor assumed the cause of the cellulitis was an insect bite. Dave loves to work in the yard and we do have bugs of all kinds, many of whom do bite.  Most likely he was bitten and some kind of bacteria took advantage of the site.

So what does all this mean?  Should I abandon my diet and eat like “tomorrow we die”?  Nope. I’m going to keep working the Plan, doing my best to maintain my health, and keep Dave in tow as well.  I guess it all comes down to the well-worn words of the Serenity Prayer;

“God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.”

I can only control so much in my own life and even less in Dave’s, and keep the Faith that the One who is in control is looking after us both.

This morning I treated myself to something I haven’t done in so many years that I can’t even remember; I lazed in my bed for over an hour just dozing in and out and thinking.  It was amazing!

Usually, I’m up-and-at-em within half an hour of my usual time on Saturday mornings.  But I had a late night last night, playing hostess while our parish Cursillo as we hosted the March Ultreya.  Our tiny hall was filled to the max and I, with my helpers,was on my feet for most of the evening,  insuring that every little detail was running smoothly.  Four hours on my feet is a long time so by the time we turned out the lights my back was screaming for relief.  When I got home I took two Advil and changed into my pajamas.

I took me some time to wind down.  Usually I head up the stairs with Dave but last night I needed another hour to let my mind relax from the stimulation of meeting and greeting so many faces and the busy-ness of keeping everyone comfortable.  So, I worked on my jigsaw puzzles for a while with the Property Brothers on in the background until about midnight.  As I finally headed off to bed, I vowed that I would do nothing the following day but be lazy with the exception of running to Foodlion to pick up a quart of half-n-half that we borrowed from the church pantry last night and run it over to the hall.

When I awoke this morning, Dave was dressed and ready for the gym.  I smiled as he kissed me and left but made no move to get up myself.  Instead, I let my mind wander over the events of the night before as well as some unresolved thoughts in my mind.  I wasn’t in pain nor was I tired.  I was just being me, enjoying the warmth of my bed as the early morning light greeted me.  In my mind I began to plan to write about this extraordinary experience, of  being lazy in my bed and just how good it felt.

After a while, my younger cat, Purrl jumped on the bed, sniffed my hand and then took her post on Dave’s nightstand.  It was as if she needed reassurance that I was okay.  We stayed that way for a long while, me under the covers, Purrl standing watch until I finally decided it was time to get myself up.

Fast forward a couple of hours and here I am, fed, showed but not dressed, finishing my blog about being lazy.  In a few minutes, after I finish, I will dry my hair, get dressed and continue my goal for the day, to do nothing, after I get the half-n-half and run it over to the hall.

Thanks be to God for a day like this, to recharge after a string of full ones!