You Want Me to Do What?

I am a wimp. I admit it openly. I do not like to sweat or even be hot. Cold is bad too. I don't want to carry too much stuff, so I pack light. It drives my husband nuts because he is the man who is always prepared. I do not like to climb steep hills or slide down them either. I do not like heights or the dark. My idea of camping is a hotel without a pool. My hair and makeup don't have to be perfect or "done," but I don't like to be messy either. I am a picky eater so I would rather go hungry than creative. In spite of all of this, I was asked to join our local volunteer Search and Rescue Squad. I'm sorry, did you say my name? I think you meant my eight-year-old who is braver than me, right? After much deliberation, I was sworn in last month and it is finally sinking in. I tricked myself into thinking I could do this until last week. Last week some of our guys went on a search that was tough for them. They hiked miles upon miles through the mountains (the elevation varied from 8000 to 11,000 feet) looking for a lost hiker. What was I thinking?! Oh yeah, they asked me to join so I could sit at the command post and tell others what to do. They have seen me with my children and know that I am good at telling people what to do. Why was I worried? I can do this.

Too Much For One Day

Today has been a difficult day. Looking to the bright side, out of difficulty comes greatness. We have a neighbor that has become family to us. He is divorced and his twenty-something kids have gone their own ways without staying in touch. This man whom we have befriended now introduces our kids as his grandkids and we include him in our lives. On my way to work I received a phone call from him letting me know that his 94-year-old mother passed away early this morning. Numb from the phone call, several other things happened to me today taking my day further down. Not wanting to be couped up in the house after my husband left for work, I took the kids over to their "grandpa's" house to cheer him (and me) up. We talked for a few minutes before he told me that he called his son to let him know about his mother's passing. This was the first time they spoke in two years. My friend became teary-eyed just talking about the conversation. Later in the day he was able to make contact with his daughter for the first time in about the same time span. For a moment I felt like I was intruding on this family moment, but I was honored to be included in his experience today.