But she didn't know I was on Whole30. And the devil said, "What's one day? It's not like anything is going to be different if you do 29 days instead of 30."
And I said, yeah. That makes sense. Except it was a lie--because of the disappointment Shane had and the guilt I felt. So now it's gone down as a family joke, my Whole29. (It's ok, I laugh too. Great lesson learned.)
Well, I was sitting with Erin in the school room today when we heard an odd sound and she got up to look out the window but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Suddenly she said, "Mom, the police are here."
And sure enough, a state trooper is at my door asking me if I own a brick mailbox. I grabbed my shoes and phone and rode with him to the street.
And there was my mailbox in a thousand pieces.
"HOLY COW!" I took a picture.
And then taking in the whole scene, "OH MY GOSH, IS HE OK?" As I saw the overturned truck next to it.
He was ok, not a scratch on him, thank God! And in good spirits as well, thankfully, because really? It's just a mailbox. It's so replaceable. He's probably giving himself enough grief at calling his boss to say he flipped a work truck.
This day had its challenges, starting when the dishwasher broke at 4 a.m. And not stopping there. But this hard stop--an overturned truck, and a myriad of other possibilities that show God's mercy in all. In the thick of this day, I had to slow down, and time seemed to slow with me. The driver and not a scratch on him, despite not wearing a seat belt and flipping his truck. I saw all my neighbors today and got to look them in the eyes and talk to them. And the ones I didn't see called me to check on us. I got to meet a few folks down the road for the first time. This guy lives a stone's throw and is a real gem.
|he was crouching to get in the frame|
"The mailbox didn't make it to five years," Erin said, face blotchy from tears. She cried when we got the new fridge. She cried when we got the new oven. Her sensitive heart.
"It's kinda like your diet. It quit the day before!" Shane laughed.
Five years here tomorrow. There will be cake--on paper plates.
|Minus one dishwasher and one mailbox|