The sun bathed the cloudless sky in the pastel hues of morning. Crisp and clean, the breeze gently caressed his cheek. Despite struggling with a virus that greatly constricted his airways, he inhaled deeply the cool air of the morning around him. The newness and freshness of it all foreshadowed a good day to come. It was a good day that would be much welcomed. The previous day’s events had brought more than their share of hardships. The difficulty of a cross country drive had been compounded by a soaking, steady rain that made parking the trailer in north central Louisiana more difficult that it might have otherwise been. In fact, while parking the trailer in the dark, he had turned to miss a small tree. He thought that he had been entirely successful until the next morning, when, after packing up in the rain, he discovered that his front hubcap was missing. After a search over the places that they had been the night before, his wife finally found the AWOL hubcap and he replaced it on the vehicle. It was only then that they started across the country and more specifically through the endless state of Texas. The sun had long set and all the family was more than ready to stop as they passed through Abilene, TX, still heading west. Fatigue had now allied itself with some virus that concentrated its attack on his head and set up military operations in his sinus cavity. As the hours passed by, he filled and emptied trash bag after trash bag with facial tissues, each drenched by the predictable drip that came from his nose. After hours of nose wiping, driving, sign reading, driving, searching for places to eat, driving, searching for a place to stop for the night, and more driving, the combined forces of fatigue and sickness seemed to have weighted his every bone and muscle. After passing through the verdant jungles of Louisiana and east Texas, the family had entered the semi-arid plains of west Texas, spotting an occasional prickly pear from time to time. Rain was a novelty in these parts and the countryside all too readily told the tale. Yet as he set up his trailer that night in the only available campground for miles, a cold rain assayed to saturate his outer layer of clothing and reminded him of his eastern roots.
Thus far had been the events of the trip. Now, the rain in west Texas a memory, the night past and the sun shining, the new day seemed to promise wonderful things. Never had nature’s foreshadowing been so wrong.
His time of solitude ended, he retreated back to his trailer for breakfast and preparation for departure. In genuine altruistic spirit, he offered to help his wife with the breakfast meal preparation. It was then that the ruse of nature’s prophecy began to surface. The grits resided on the bottom shelf of the pantry. To barricade the pantry door, a metric ton of missionary gifts had been strategically planted so as to delay if not deny access to the nourishment contained inside. But on this good day, moving the gifts would be no difficult task. In fact, he need not touch the gifts at all, using the pantry door to displace them and reveal the pantry’s contents within. Blithely bending at knee and waist, he extended his right arm and grasped the cardboard canister of grits firmly. With the dexterity of youth, he pivoted his body on one foot, bringing the grits to where he could vouchsafe them to his wife.
It was at this moment that the prophecy of a good day was dealt the first of many blows. Seemingly in defiance of the laws of physics, the firmly held canister took advantage of the momentum of the spin and used energy to break the bonds of friction and release itself from his grip. With its newfound freedom, the canister hurled itself with deadly accuracy toward the open trash can, performing a perfect flip in the process. All the grits in the canister pressed with full force on the lid, displacing it as if by explosion. Before a full second had elapsed, the grits were free of their canister and almost entirely ensconced in a dirty diaper. The optimism of the morning seemed slightly misplaced at this particular moment, being further injured by a spousal interrogation that bordered on accusatory. “What are you doing?!” To her, it seemed as if he had taken their only available sustenance and used it to practice his slam dunk skills. Deciding that chef’s helper was not his occupation, he fled the scene.
He then decided to help his wife with the ongoing task of toilet training their daughter. He placed her on the seat and told her to remain there until he came to get her. Being a man of efficiency, he reasoned that he could shower quickly and retrieve his daughter after she had finished her business. Before his shower complete, however, he discerned that his daughter had abandoned her post, just before doing her business. Her business had now irrigated the bathroom floor, being slight contained by her two socks and her pajamas. As quickly as possible, he came into the room upon the scene of the most recent accident and began cleaning up the mess. Once again, the myth of the good day had been dealt a serious blow.
As with any road trip, it was necessary to stop from time to time to refuel. As if the good day theory had not been weakened enough, every diesel pump from Alabama to New Mexico refused to read his credit card, causing every fueling to become a major ordeal involving at least three trips to the cashier’s desk. By the end of the day, he was wondering if he had been triple charged for each fuel purchase.
In addition to the fueling episodes, the good day theory was further debunked by an attempt to check e-mail at a wireless-equipped rest area in west Texas. He had passed other rest areas that were similarly equipped, but chose to stop at this particular one. After failing to pick up a signal, he discovered through inquiry that the towers had blown down in a windstorm, and evidently were still not functional.
Throughout the day, other events served to strengthen the nagging feeling that all was not well. Upon finally reaching the desert, he discovered that he had lost his chapstick. His parched lips notwithstanding, he refused the cinnamon peppermint lipslicks kissing potion that his wife offered him.
After yet another relay at the gas station, he looked at his receipt, only to discover that it was not his receipt but someone else’s. It was at this point that the misfortune of before began to pass to another traveler who would now have to pay a higher fuel bill than what he had pumped into his vehicle.
In reality, though, this type of misfortune has followed me this entire trip. I will not bore you with the details of the commode breaking, necessitating that we be without water for a day. Nor will I disclose how our pipes froze Sunday morning. I will also withhold most of the story of how our grey water drain hose froze and nearly flooded the inside of the trailer before we discovered it.
Two things I will say, however. First of all, pray for us because we have to take so much time just to live that I am finding little time to work. Second of all, we are joyful, if weary, remembering that God is in control and no circumstance, no matter how difficult or frustrating, is ever out of His control.
Paul & Sarah
We do hereby certify that all of the above events are true, no matter how outlandish and far-fetched they may seem. “The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth” is our motto for this update. Questions or comments? Call 1-800-This-Cud-B-U!
No comments:
Post a Comment