very bad & blessed

So on Tuesday (follow my train of thought here, as we’ll eventually make our point)…
With minimal sleep and a totally swamped, exhausting day before, I awoke with two of my two and half bathrooms unusable. With my spouse out of town and carpet layers home instead for a substantial, two day project, the furniture in the soon-to-be carpeted rooms was temporarily stacked in the bathrooms. Note that when stacked from floor to ceiling, brushing one’s teeth becomes unviable and taking a shower, out of the question.

With the carpet crew and the paint crew both working steadfastly on this day — albeit in separate rooms — the only indoor area absent of contractors was a booth in my kitchen. Don’t get me wrong. I love my booth; but it was the only place in my entire home in which I could peacefully sit.

Strike that peacefully part… I knew there would be two days of this, overlapping the crews for some desired home improvements, and so on the previous day, I took my one year old pup to my favorite “doggie daycare,” so the noise of the stripping and pounding would not be cause for her to stir; however, Tuesdays are for small dogs only; my pup weighs 53 lbs.

So on Tuesday, my faithful Yogi stayed right where she typically does — by my side — which now included barking and barking and even more barking due the pounding of the carpet layers, who were not yet, her known friends.

I suppose I could have let her outside; granted, it had rained this morning.

At one point, the barking got the best of her. She took off all a sudden, slamming my left hand against a metal table. It hurt so much, tears immediately flowed. While I no longer think it’s broken, it remains swollen and available only for minimal use.

My son then called — couldn’t find his written excuse for the orthodontist. I had to then call both the school and the ortho.

“Time for lunch,” I thought. “I’ll sit down and find some comfort food.” Yet before taking my very first bite, I walked out to the garage to throw something away… until… when what to my wondering eyes should appear? My car, that was sitting in the garage all night, had a flat tire.

Geesh.

I admit: when initially considering penning a relevant post, my thoughts pretty much paralleled “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.” But somewhere amidst the pondering, I realized if I focused on what truly seemed a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I would miss any blessing.

I’ve seen a few blog articles swirling around cyberspace lately talking about use of the word “blessing” — or “blessed.” And mostly what I’ve seen has been an ardent admonition to quit using the word.

I disagree. We shouldn’t stop saying the word; we should instead start using it correctly.

Being “blessed” is not a matter of material fortune.
Being “blessed” is not a matter of prosperity, victory, or success.
Being “blessed” is not a matter of circumstance.

Even though my Tuesday was indeed a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I was still blessed…

I was blessed being able to interact and communicate with the ethnically diverse contractors in my home that day.
I was blessed that they would allow me to make them dinner, thankful for them using their skill and expertise in an area that I had none.
I was blessed by the kindness of the Good Samaritan who came to my house to fix the tire.
I was blessed by the prayers of friends who knew I was struggling.
And I was blessed by that special needs son, who told me before he left for school that day, “It’s ok, Mom. God’s got it all under control.”

Thank God my Tuesday didn’t keep me from seeing the blessing.

Respectfully…
AR