Some days are gentle and wondrous and the list of gratitude rolls off the tongue like butter on a hot pancake. This is not that day.

My first thought this morning, before my eyes flew open, was that my thirteen-year-old's Classical Writing class was starting while I was with my older daughter at her doctor appointment. Things never go smoothly on the first day of online classes, and today was no exception to that. Trying to calm her on the phone was not sufficient, and I was a bit traumatized by my inability to be in two places at once.

When I finally arrived home to the hard-to-start-but-belatedly-happy class session, I got more news. As of today, my son has twenty-eight days to complete and turn in his Eagle Scout binder. His project has experienced some funding snafus and he learned of even one more today. If nothing else, an Eagle project offers opportunities for prayer.

What's a worried guy to do? Well, he is planning a fund raiser as fast as he can. We await the news that a location for a car wash has been secured. If all goes well, my fiftieth birthday will be spent selling coffee and scones and cinnamon rolls in the "cafe section" of the car wash parking lot. No worries, though. We have already planned to put off a formal celebration of the half-century mark until October. I cannot celebrate while Eagle Projects are looming on the horizon and daughters are departing for college. A heart can only take so much excitement, especially at my age (hahaha.)

And then there is the bathtub that is, once again, leaking through the ceiling to the pantry down below. I don't mind a little misting spray as I walk in the pantry; it's actually a nice feature on a hot day. But when it is leaking from the bathtub, rotting floor boards as it mists down? Not so nice. And my over-active imagination can envision the tub splintering through the ceiling and LANDING in the pantry...all while someone is using the tub. That would not be good, would it? Nope.

There's more to my not so dandy day, but it will need to stay cryptic. I made a commitment at the inception of this blog not to drag petty things across these pages. When I am upset I struggle to keep my vocabulary clean, and I probably end up sounding like a bitter and narrow-minded drama queen. That is not the person I am aiming for, by God's grace. I'll just keep it simple and say that I deleted some emails today and I am a better person for it.

On a day like today I have to take the time to remember: my house is not in danger of fire like so many others in California (just potentially falling bathtubs.) My husband has a job, unlike so many others around our country. We aren't hungry. We aren't lonely; we are surrounded by dear friends and family. We have a great life, and we serve a great God. Today is simply a low-bar comparison to the days when the sun shines like gold leaf on the trees across the valley, the smell of espresso is brewing in the kitchen, and the children are laughing happily as they read P.G. Wodehouse. We have plenty of those glowing, French roasty, laugh-filled days. And maybe tomorrow will be one.


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