Woe is Me... or not
2013 has been an interesting year so far, already stock-full of misadventures and trials.
For instance, on Sunday night, my dishwasher--which has had to be cycled manually since sometime in mid-October--finally decided it was time for retirement. Wow, I sure didn't miss dishpan hands. I felt like most of my week was spent doing dishes. No wonder people used to hire servants...
Two weeks ago, late on a Friday afternoon, I was rear-ended while stopped on the highway, waiting to turn left because of a long line of traffic. Fortunately, no one was hurt--the li'l ol' lady responsible had seen me, just too late, thanks to the low-slanting rays of sun in her eyes. So, she had slowed down, just not enough to prevent a collision.
Unfortunately, the dent she gave the hatch of my van was enough to prevent it from latching. Thus, the interior lights wouldn't shut off. Thus, my battery went dead. At -27C. And killed it completely. So we replaced it so I could get the thing to town for a damage assessment, and THAT one went dead. Which I discovered 20 minutes before the chiropractor appointment that was meant to address my mild whiplash and give a professional assessment of the state of the children (who kept insisting they were fine, I just figured I'd check.)
I felt horrible about having to cancel that appointment, but there was no other option. I was rather insulted, though, when I called to reschedule, that the receptionist would not allow me to book anything before 5:30, because "we can't have that happen again." As if I cancelled on purpose. As if I'm an unreliable person. As if I hadn't fixed the problem with the battery, despite having told her I had.
By that point, nearly a week had gone by since the collision. I had been managing the pain and inflammation in my back and neck quite nicely using essential oils and a couple of massages from my husband. I decided I definitely would not go to that chiropractor, but figured it wasn't really worth it to try and see the other one in town at that point, either. We all seemed to be doing okay.
All this pales in comparison, though, to the real trial of the last month: Jason's dad had a heart attack three weeks ago. Since then, he has been sedated in the hospital, and his health has been steadily declining. Jason spent about five days down in Calgary with his family (actually, that's where he was when I was rear-ended), then came home, as there was not much to do but sit, and wait, and worry.
The doctors kept offering the hope of recovery, despite finding new problems on what seemed to be a daily basis for a while. Until today. The hard decision was made to remove life support tomorrow, and let Lance go home to Jesus.
Of all the trials of life, death of a loved one can be the hardest. Appliances and vehicles can be replaced, health can be managed, but the presence of someone important will always be missed once it is gone.
I thank all of you who have been praying, and sending words and notes of encouragement (on Facebook and otherwise)... they have been felt, and appreciated.
And we have this hope... this goodbye is only temporary. Someday, we will see him again as we worship together at the feet of Jesus.
We'll miss you, Dad. May you be at peace.
For instance, on Sunday night, my dishwasher--which has had to be cycled manually since sometime in mid-October--finally decided it was time for retirement. Wow, I sure didn't miss dishpan hands. I felt like most of my week was spent doing dishes. No wonder people used to hire servants...
Two weeks ago, late on a Friday afternoon, I was rear-ended while stopped on the highway, waiting to turn left because of a long line of traffic. Fortunately, no one was hurt--the li'l ol' lady responsible had seen me, just too late, thanks to the low-slanting rays of sun in her eyes. So, she had slowed down, just not enough to prevent a collision.
Unfortunately, the dent she gave the hatch of my van was enough to prevent it from latching. Thus, the interior lights wouldn't shut off. Thus, my battery went dead. At -27C. And killed it completely. So we replaced it so I could get the thing to town for a damage assessment, and THAT one went dead. Which I discovered 20 minutes before the chiropractor appointment that was meant to address my mild whiplash and give a professional assessment of the state of the children (who kept insisting they were fine, I just figured I'd check.)
I felt horrible about having to cancel that appointment, but there was no other option. I was rather insulted, though, when I called to reschedule, that the receptionist would not allow me to book anything before 5:30, because "we can't have that happen again." As if I cancelled on purpose. As if I'm an unreliable person. As if I hadn't fixed the problem with the battery, despite having told her I had.
By that point, nearly a week had gone by since the collision. I had been managing the pain and inflammation in my back and neck quite nicely using essential oils and a couple of massages from my husband. I decided I definitely would not go to that chiropractor, but figured it wasn't really worth it to try and see the other one in town at that point, either. We all seemed to be doing okay.
All this pales in comparison, though, to the real trial of the last month: Jason's dad had a heart attack three weeks ago. Since then, he has been sedated in the hospital, and his health has been steadily declining. Jason spent about five days down in Calgary with his family (actually, that's where he was when I was rear-ended), then came home, as there was not much to do but sit, and wait, and worry.
The doctors kept offering the hope of recovery, despite finding new problems on what seemed to be a daily basis for a while. Until today. The hard decision was made to remove life support tomorrow, and let Lance go home to Jesus.
Of all the trials of life, death of a loved one can be the hardest. Appliances and vehicles can be replaced, health can be managed, but the presence of someone important will always be missed once it is gone.
I thank all of you who have been praying, and sending words and notes of encouragement (on Facebook and otherwise)... they have been felt, and appreciated.
And we have this hope... this goodbye is only temporary. Someday, we will see him again as we worship together at the feet of Jesus.
We'll miss you, Dad. May you be at peace.
