Wednesday I thought I was going to die.
I am a storyteller, at times I am dramatic and my husband and my brother would both say that I exaggerate. I think I am working on that and I know that crazy stuff happens to us all the time. Remember this conversation on Father of the Bride?
George: "You know, Bryan, Annie is a very passionate person and passionate people tend to overreact sometimes. Annie comes from a long line of overreactors. Me. I can definitely lose it. My mother. A total nut. My grandfather. Stories about him were legendary. The good news, however, is that the overreacting tends to get proportionally less by generation...so your kids could be normal....but on the upside, with this passion comes great spirit and individuality, which is probably one of the things that you love about Annie."
Bryan: "That's what I love most about Annie."
So when I say that I almost died on Wednesday, the insecure me thinks that my husband and my brother and my loved ones won't believe me. That the truck, with good wheels and 4WD, going only 30mph, didn't really spin from the inside lane acrossed 4 lanes of traffic and into a snow drift. But it did. And I did see, in slow motion, cars in every lane coming at me. And after I freaked out, I shouted thanksgiving and I got a bit ticked off that I could almost lose everything so quickly.
I want to complain and whine about the constant chaos that I feel finds me. Do other people start a sentence with "Remember when I was doing CPR on the side of Hwy 7?" or "Nevermind, I just found my pager in the tree house." It annoys me that I know how to snake a toilet, patch drywall and filter out the washer from diaper goo. I get grumpy that my son is constantly taking something apart and dissembling our house while lying the whole time. There are days when I feel like the contestants on "Wipe Out," when they get their balance and then from out of no where they get nailed in the head with a pie. Good gracious. My home has clean, running water. There aren't bars on our windows. I have a healthy family, a husband that loves me and an amazing job and most importantly, salvation from God.
The selfish side of me doesn't want drama but it finds me anyway. And it blesses me not to be mundane or ordinary. When I get to wallowing, God throws something at me to remind me that there is a purpose in every bit of chaos, even if it seems so frustrating or exhausting. Last night as we were leaving Sam's Club, the woman that checks our receipt for stolen eggs greeted my children by name. She drew them a picture on the back of our lllloooonnggg ticket and said "You are some of my very favorite people." Now take a step back and think about what it looks like for us to take all 4 children to Sam's Club. We have a pep talk that goes like this "What do we expect at Sam's? Yes, that's right. No climbing the shelves. No running or screaming. Yes, you can pretend to be the Muppets, that is fine." It is stressful, often embarrassing and sometimes more than frustrating. I would imagine that Ryan and I usually look a bit frazzled by the time this lady sees us. But our kids run to her, call her by her name and tell her funny stuff like "I worked a long shift today." And apparently that is a highlight of her work day. In other words, my drama my indeed be entertaining and enjoyable to others. Sweet.
So bring on the obscure home projects, the nudity and the inappropriate comments ("Mom, what would happen if that man's legs got even fatter? Would he be an elephant?") And maybe next time I won't need a near death experience to find my gratitude again.