A Unique Day

I don't like to call out at work, but I went the the doctor and requested a note saying I must rest, since I stand up all day when I work. I sat on my bed with ice under my knee and ibuprofen in my bloodstream. OK, it seems to help a little. But I cannot bear to leave my people in the lurch on Saturday when everyone and their uncle shows up at the store. So I decide I'll go work. It's not too bad the first few hours but I trip ever so slightly on the entry mat and turn my knee again. Ow. As the night wears on it hurts more and more to walk. I do my closing duties and cannot wait to get home and OFF my knee. Same thing happens in the nursery in church. The tiniest wrinkle in the play rug catches my sandle and there goes my knee again. So I guess stay off means stay off.

One problem: I have a ticket to contest downtown and you are only allowed to reschedule your hearing outside of 5 business days and it's past that deadline. I call for directions and they say 'Oh it's right across the street from the Metro stop.' Yes, it is, but my address number is one numeral off from the one I see on the building, so I think: Maybe it is the one "next door" and I walk down a half city block, go in and find out that the entrance I need is BEHIND the one I just saw across from the Metro, so I ask for directions, the shortest way, please.

My knee hurts very badly. I am thinking I should have just paid it. It's not worth $50.00. This is not worth it.

Meanwhile, it's a Federal Building, you see, so they have taken the blades out of my utility knife which I am embarrassed to discover is in my tote bag. I use it at work and had forgotten in was in the tote. The nice man has his back to me and is fiddling and fussing. What is taking him so long? About 10 minutes go by and apparently he has a problem. I start saying Just keep the knife, I don't need it. Finally I say I need to go to my hearing now and he comes to me with my knife in pieces. Apparently he didn't know how to remove the blade so he unscrewed it and cannot figure out how to put it back together.

The other nice security man told me how to get to the other building going through the hall in the basement. So I go downstairs and proceed down the hall and get about halfway, limping more and more.

Suddenly there is an obstacle. I ask a nice woman how to proceed and she said you can't go through right now because of construction. Are you SURE there is no way through?! She is sure.

So I head back, Ow, Ow, Ow, now I have discovered that it helps to lean against the wall with my hand, taking some of the weight off my right knee.

I see a room number that matches the one on my paper so I think, Oh here it is and I go in. But I'm wrong. I have confused the street address with this room number. I finally make it to my room. One or two nice gentlemen and a lady have offered to help. Do you have wheelchairs? No, they say.

I sit for maybe 45 minutes and I'm called for my hearing. Of all days to forget my ibuprofen!

I am called several doors down in the other wing. She says take your time, whenever you get there....

Basically it is a problem of giving me 2 tickets for one speeding infraction. The photo is exactly the same and so are the cars in the photo passing me on the other side of the raod. So if these tickets are both accurate, it means I got off the beltway and drove around the block and went by the same camera 10 minutes later and at that exact moment, the two vehicles passed by going the other direction at the exact spot...not likely...

Only the times and speeds are written differently. So I suggest that...I don't know how these things work, but perhaps the person recording it decided he or she made a mistake and wanted to do the ticket over, but failed to delete the first record....I don't know.

She said I'm going to cancel BOTH tickets and refund you the money you already paid for the first one. My mouth drops, Thank you! (MAYBE it was worth coming down here, but I don't know .... to avoid all that pain MIGHT have been worth $150 plus Metro fare, Metro parking and hours of my day.)

I ask for the shortest way back to the Metro and wonder out loud if they sell advil at those little kiosks. She says she has Motrin and she shares two with me. "Bless you!"

Between the exit and the Metro there is a kiosk and I decide to eat a hot dog and chips for lunch. I'm expecting high prices but it's cheap. I guess it's because it's not tourist season. I sit on the stone wall and eat.

I'm thinking of how people do it who are chronically ill. I think refugees being forced to walk long distances, hungry and cold, no bathrooms available. I think of soldiers who must keep marching no matter how badly they are injured. I think I'm not very strong. When I'm sick or injured, these thoughts always come to me. I feel guilty for feeling my pain sometimes. Right now I think that's silly.

[[Once when I had minor surgery I was a young Christian and prayed that I might have more pain so that someone else might have less pain. Now that was downright goofball thinking. But interestingly enough, the anesthesia had not reached part of the area they were working on and I could feel it! Please don't make too much of this theologically.]]

But I have an awareness that God is with me and that He is looking at my life from a higher pinnacle on the mountain range. I am trekking up and down and get a glimpse of a panorama now and then and it takes my breath away. But He can see the whole thing all the time. I am aware that He is aware of me and I am amazed at Him again.

As I leave the parking lot I think I'm in good shape because I have not one but two smart trip passes to pay and get out. But alas, neither has enough money to open the gate so I have to repark, WALK back into the station, put more money on my card and WALK back out to my car. Ow, the pain with every step.

Finally I get out and driving home I just have a sense that this day is significant though I don't see why. I'm wondering if my coach's baby is being born, that would be hugely significant.

I get my ice pack and get on my bed. After 20 minutes of napping, I get my coffee and my paints.

The doorbell.
Uh, oh, I'll bet it's potential buyers. To save steps I open the window and talk to them. Yes it's a realtor with a couple. The wife is saying "I told her I wanted to see the candle house again! The candle house." I guess they've already been here and it must have been the day I knew I'd only be gone a few minutes so I left all the candles burning. I say do you want me to light them for you?

I get the dog leashed and turn on all the lights on my way to the back yard where I sit on my weathered bench and look at my trees. "MY" trees, right. I am grieving giving all this up. It's so beautiful. Why am I doing this again? OH, yes, I need the money and the house takes too much effort and expense...time... I need to spend time painting.

They are on the back porch now; I try not to listen. The realtor comes out and says I'm going to talk them into writing a contract. Well, that sounds great, but I don't let myself get too hopeful because they might change their mind at the next house. They ask a few questions about the roof and the new gutter and the property line. They love the color, not all white like all the others.

So the next day I had a contract and the following day they had my signature on it. And now that I have news from my life coach, I find it interesting that his baby boy was indeed coming into the world that very day!