Not In Charge

My family panics every time I pick up a knife to chop a salad.  This week has made me humble. No task is easy. Every action must be focused and deliberate. Walking through WalMart yesterday, I was overwhelmed by stimuli: buzzing lights, muzak, my girls pulling random hair accessories off the rack and announcing, “I need this Mama.”

Let me explain.  I’m always in charge.  I’m the mom.  I’m the Type A, to-the-point, fix-it-now girl.  I find myself in the position of allowing depending on others to do stuff for me.  BBC2 and Cookie Crisp are here to help.  So far, I’ve eaten a gourmet dessert at every meal, had my kitchen cabinets painted, and been the recipient of a new garden gate.  All of this happened while I sat on the couch or the patio or at the kitchen table. (It’s great work if you can get it.)  It’s as if a whole team of Santa’s elves arrived to pick up the pieces of my world.

I’m grateful. I can’t overstate that.  I’ve been blessed, but I’m also a blank slate.  I have no view of what might be next. I feel stupid because I’ve never had an accurate view of what’s next. I only thought I did.

I can’t predict or control the outcome of this day. A loss of balance has put me in my place.  

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