A Time to Cry

I’ve been a bit emotional lately, crying at the drop of a hat–and no, it’s not about the car accident. It’s just that I’m so blessed.

Tuesday at work was insane. My pedometer read that I had walked 1400 steps during the 9.5 hours that I was there. (Yep, I stayed an extra hour.) By the time it was over, my feet were killing me and I was tireder than tired. I went to the library, where I finished the book I needed to return. On the drive home, I contemplated the dishes. I’d been too busy or tired to dishes in almost a week–and we’d managed to use nearly every pan in our cupboards (I think there were 8 or 9 unwashed pans sitting on the counter). I entertained a little dream that a fairy would come and do the dishes like the Shoemaker and the elves–or that maybe my roommate would do dishes. When I opened the garage door to find that Casandra’s car wasn’t there, I knew that the latter couldn’t be true. So imagine my surprise when I discovered that the light was on in my kitchen and Grace was elbow deep in dishwater. I almost cried.

Wednesday, I walked into work at 6:25 as usual and the greeter at the front door said hi. Then he stopped me to tell me how much he appreciates that I’m always happy and friendly when I come in. I teared up.

As I was about to leave Wednesday afternoon, my office-mate told me that I was the most professional intern they’ve had yet. He struggled to explain himself, mentioning how I was task oriented and stayed busy. Which, to me, is a pretty high compliment. I turned my face back towards my computer as my eyes got watery.

Then came the car accident. I was rear-ended, pushing me into the car in front of me, giving me a bit of whiplash, and decimating my car. It took the police 45 minutes to show up (of course). I was so thankful that I had several books in my bag and could read while I waited. I read two (long) chapters of The Endurance: Shackleton’s Legendary Antarctic Expedition, a chapter of The Cost of Discipleship, and a Taste of Home Magazine before all was said and done. I didn’t cry, but I felt pretty blessed to have those books there with me.

After I couldn’t start my car, I called my parents to see if someone could come and get me. Dad came along and we dropped by Simply the Best Autos to talk to our good friend Robin. Robin and Dad went out to see if they could get Jack (my car) while I watched the shop (gulp!) They brought Jack over to the lot and I only looked stupidly, stammered, and handed out business cards to two gentlemen who were asking about the prices on cars. Then Robin loaned me a car for today and gave me the information I needed to deal with insurance agents. I could have cried.

I got to the folks house and soon had a concerned bevy about me. Mom, Dad, Josh, and Dan all wanted to hear. They asked questions and shared reassurances. And they laid hands on me and prayed for me. I cried again.

Dad did the hard work of calling the last guy in line’s insurance company and getting the ball rolling on insurance claims. I’m so thankful he was willing to go through the insurance rigmarole for me.

Daniel went to my house and got Schindler’s List from my desk so we could watch it together while I re-cuped. I cried all the way through.

We were hungry but didn’t feel like making anything (imagine that!), so I called the kids to see if they could pick up Popeye’s on their way home from youth group. My roommate paid for our meal, even though she had errands to run and couldn’t join us for it.

The movie got over and the kiddos started telling me about how Jeremy said something in his sermon that evening because I wasn’t there. He said that Eve sinned first–and that he could say that because I wasn’t there (I would, naturally, protest that Eve was deceived per I Timothy but Adam was the first to willfully sin.) Then, the kids tell me, he went on to tell the students that I was one of the best sponsors he’d had and that I was just wonderful–telling them anecdotes about stuff I’d done and everything. I cried as they told me.

Anna called, concerned once Daniel told her the news, and gave me all sorts of advice. She told me I shouldn’t be stoic and should go to the doctor to get some narcotics if they pain got too bad (by God’s grace, it hasn’t been that bad yet). She worried over me a bit, and told me I could sleep in her bed tonight (since climbing into my loft is not exactly the easiest thing when my back and neck are screaming at me.) Then she texted our other part-time roomie, who promptly Facebooked me her concern and that she was praying. I’m too blessed.

Perhaps I should be worried because I’m without a car and starting my community rotation (in which I will have to do a great deal of traveling) on Monday. Perhaps I should be upset that my wonderful, reliable Jack is totaled. Perhaps I should be overcome by the pain in my back and neck. But instead, I’m overwhelmed by the grace and favor of God.

Some days are just a time to cry.