So. This morning, my dumb dogs deposited a dead groundhog in my garage sometime between Eric’s departure and our frantic get-in-the-van-or-we-will-miss-the-bus hoopla.

I saw them wandering around the back yard with Pip, my BIL’s dog, about 6:30 a.m., and figure they had dropped off the dead thing IN my garage, you know, for safe-keeping, lest some other animal find their treasure and steal away with it.

So on this Thursday morning, we had created THREE, count them THREE, quick costumes in honor of Dr. Seuss’s birthday. We had done the speech homework since we have speech on Thursdays and we didn’t think of it until 7:30 on Thursday morning. I got the lunches made. We did the normal chores. I remembered to write in all three agendas that we would do after-school differently because of the PTO meeting today. I mean, I was ON TOP OF IT.

And then Alex skips outside (because he’s always ready first) at like 8:15 and hollers back in the open garage door (because we don’t close garage doors), “Hey MOM, the dogs left a whistlepig in the garage, and I think it’s dead.”

SO if you don’t know, a whistle pig is what Curious George called a groundhog, and what my son was, with great excitement, telling me is that THERE WAS A DEAD THING IN MY GARAGE!!!

Which is a problem, y’all. Because dead things creep me out. CREEP.ME.OUT. As in, make my skin crawl and make me squeal and make my insides all twist up. And my husband is gone, and there’s no one to dispose of the dumb thing except me. So I pull on my big-girl panties and go into the garage.

And EWWWWWWW. It’s all curled up and its two pointy buck teeth are all sticking out at me, and its fur is all sticking out like the dogs rubbed some Bed Head hair putty into it after they killed it.

Even worse, the only implement for removal is a rake with very short metal tines. And I really need a shovel, too. But I can’t find one because at some point all the garden tools got moved back to the other garage so they’re nowhere to be found. AND Eric now keeps that garage locked and I have NO idea where the key is.

So now I’m left with a sadly insufficient tool and a heavy gross dead thing in my garage. The dogs are nowhere to be seen (I called for them but they ignored me), and my son is giggling like a little boy who’s all excited about a dead thing in the garage. OH and then out comes Megan to see the dumb, dead thing WITH HER TOAST still IN her hand.

GAH!!!

So finally, I decide I’m just going to have to DO this thing. I can DO this, people. So I try to get my short-tined rake under it, and it just flops off. Ack! Ack! Ack! I walked ALL the way AROUND the van (because I’m certainly not getting close to the gross thing), and try to get it that way.

And in one final attempt to deal with the situation without being late for school, I use the rake to literally pull the little carcass out of the garage and onto the gravel where it flops over and stares at me, with its paws all curled up and its teeth just sticking out at me.

My children are in the garage all excited, and I’m so glad they’re laughing about it because I’m trying to not let my creeped out, nearly-in-tears self fall apart RIGHT in front of their eyes. And that was as good as I could do. I went BACK around the van so I didn’t have to walk by its dead glassy eyeballs and pointy teeth, and I went back inside.

LESS than five minutes later, the dogs returned and hauled their precious prize somewhere farther away from my van. Which made getting out of the house for the bus that much easier.

But in consequence of doing something as GROSS as leaving a DEAD thing in my garage, when we left for the morning, I closed both garage doors, thus banishing them to the outside for the day. Dumb dogs.

And that is the story of the dead groundhog and my sad, creeped-out self. The end.

Things that are on my mind today…

• The health needs of a pastor friend and a young man in our school district
• That those in power don’t seem to see that wisdom always wants MORE input, never less
• That people believe it’s okay to destroy someone else’s career, income, or reputation simply because they disagree
• That Friday is the 100 Days of School celebration, and I haven’t even asked Meg what collection of 100 things she wants to take in
• That my kids’ sense of entitlement is largely encouraged by my own lack of gratitude
• The level of over-reaction to everything right now means no one will believe it when something actually horrible happens
• That it’s really hard to let a child earn a new something when I really could just buy it

Things that help me remember that we’ll make it…

• Among all of the discourse of the weekend I had a great, hard interaction with a friend from college whom I haven’t “debated” with for a long time
• My kids enjoyed playing with each other on their 2-hour delay this morning
• My bible study ladies actually enjoy coming together for bible study (which he had to postpone because of said 2-hour delay)
• Lots of people are engaging with each other and with their communities…even if we need to work on “how” we do it
• That Jesus is our final hope, no matter what my day, my world, my health, my friends, my president, my country, or my world is doing
• There is still a lot of laughter going on
• Denzel Washington won a SAG award for Fences

This morning, I woke up in a funk.

I was tired from a busy Tuesday. I was tired from the drama and discourse of the last week. I was grumpy and really wanted everyone to just leave me alone. (So of course, they needed me even when I was going to the bathroom first thing in the morning. *eye roll*)

To be honest, I milked the feeling for a while. It felt good. I am tired. And it’s been a long week. And Tuesdays always leave me drained. But I also know it’s not good for me to hang there for too long.

So instead of sulking and claiming my right to a tired funk…

I called my mom.

I talked to my kids.

I started to watch and read stuff on Facebook, but that just sent me backwards. So I made myself close that tab and shift my focus again…

I changed the sheets on my bed.

I started a load of laundry.

I folded my girls’ clean clothes.

I played pretend with Tim.

I painted (and let Timmy paint, too) and then took a silly video of Timmy.

I called my Grandpa who’s in a rehab place recovering from open heart surgery. (He’s still having trouble getting good full breaths, so I talked most of the time. I know, I’m a giver. But he was really glad I called.)

I started another batch of apple butter.

I snuggled with Timmy and watched some cartoons.

And now, here it is, just after lunch…and my funk is mostly gone. It does me good to think about someone other than myself. How about you?

PS – There’s a woodpecker on the trees outside my window. They are really interesting birds to watch. I should get myself a pair of binoculars.

So there are now way too many reports of people being harassed, assaulted, demeaned, threatened by “Trump supporters.” And from one side, I’m hearing a lot of “This is all your fault” and “You’d better fix this” to the other side.

So, let’s get this (I would have thought) obvious point out of the way.

All of that stuff is NOT OKAY. It’s illegal, unfair, demeaning, immature, and unacceptable. The children in grown-ups’ bodies who’ve been behaving this way must stop. They must be stopped. They must be arrested, convicted, fined, whatever can be done. The little children who are doing and saying such things must be taken aside and dealt with. Preferably as a teachable moment, but with whatever punishments are appropriate and in place for these situations.

Are we clear? This is NOT OKAY. It wasn’t okay a week ago. It’s not okay today. And it won’t be okay on January 21 when Trump officially takes office. You cannot DO those things and get away with it. So STOP IT.

But just saying this on a blog post doesn’t really mean so much. Because I can’t DO anything about them. I’ve read the stories. And they are heartbreaking. I’m upset. But…I don’t know anyone who’s had it happen to them (that I’m aware of). I haven’t done it. No one I know has done it. I haven’t seen any of it. It’s all over Facebook. But it’s not where I am.

Now, I assure you, if I do see it, I won’t let it go. Absolutely NO ONE should be treated like this. EVER. And while I generally refuse to do empty gestures (I never wear pink in October, for example), I may actually put a safety pin on my purse or jacket. I really like using something so small to say, I’m a safe place. I will walk with you. I will protect you, help you, be there for you. THAT is a good idea.

But I still come back to this. Where I am, I don’t see much of it. I can’t DO much about it. So instead, I did something else.

Here’s what I did do this week:

I talked with people. With MY people. I’m sharing the articles and the stories people are posting. I want to facilitate discussion, get out of the echo chambers, and really engage with the other side. That’s what I’m doing where I am.

And I reached out to the “others” in my life. People who voted differently than me. Who think differently. Who maybe are afraid right now. I told them how much I appreciate them. I made a point of not letting silence fall between us. And I had wonderful, helpful dialogue. I learned new things That’s what I’m doing right where I am.

Then today, I was scheduled to teach children’s church. So we talked about kind words. Proverbs 16:24. Ephesians 4:32. We talked about what they do for the people who hear them. And why the Bible tells us to use them. And we listed practical, kind things we can say. And we remembered that it isn’t always easy to be kind, but we have to do it anyway. In a week where the adults seemed to have forgotten this basic principle, we covered it again with these 13 kids. Because that’s what I could do where I am.

And you can do these things…where you are. You can reach out. To your people. To your “others.” You can speak truth…IN LOVE. You can be kind. Of course, PLEASE, stop the bullying and harassment if you see it. And if you don’t see it, don’t pretend it isn’t there. Pray over it. Ask someone over for dinner. Send a message. DO WHAT YOU CAN…WHERE YOU ARE.

And if everyone did that, no matter who they voted for, we would all find ourselves in a much better, safer, and more unified place.

The election is over (finally!). The results are in. And America is now looking around at the debris (to some, the holocaust) and wondering … what’s next?

I, for one, am shocked and (tbh) pleased. I have been a #neverHillary for 20 years, long before hashtags were even a thing. But I honestly didn’t think she could be beaten. And yet, somehow, she was. So today, my first emotion is relief.

And my next emotion is uncertainty. I did not vote for Trump, and I really didn’t want Hillary. (I voted for McMullin because it became most important to me that I respect the person I asked to lead us.) But Trump is in. And I have absolutely NO idea what that means. Will he rise to the occasion? Will he show a maturity that we’ve only seen glimpses of? Will he inspire the hatred and vitriol he’s accused of pandering in? I just don’t know. Trump is…all of this is…a whole new ball of wax.

And as we move forward, life will continue. Pundits will talk. Trump will take Obama’s place in January.  Life will move on. But the important question is…what about the rest of us? How do we proceed? What will the next day, month, year look like? For us? Individually and as a country?

For me, it’s this. I hope it looks an awful lot like this (skip to the 4th paragraph from the end if you don’t want to read it all):

NOTHING WORKS BETTER (James MacDonald/Walk in the Word email 11/9/16)

Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves (Philippians 2:3, NASB).

Are you having a tough day today? Been a little down in the dumps lately?

There’s a way to fix that—but not by “working on it.” The way to increase your joy again starts by doing “nothing from selfishness.” … Selfishness leads to every sin, and every sin invariably leads to discouragement, disappointment, disillusionment, and eventually to misery. Never to joy. … if you truly want to capture the joy that’s been so deftly escaping you lately, you must “do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit.” Nothing. Nothing from “rivalry,” as one translation says (HCSB), or from “selfish ambition,” as another puts it (ESV). Nothing.

This includes anything you do, whether intentionally or reflexively, to promote yourself and impress other people in hopes of getting them to see how great you are, how cool you seem, or how many good ideas you come up with. “Do nothing” to make sure your contributions at work or church or even just around the house are sufficiently admired and appreciated. “Nothing” to seek acknowledgement for yourself out of fear your talents will never be noticed if you don’t somehow point them out to people. “Nothing” to manufacture your own acceptance, promotion, popularity, affirmation, or happiness.

God’s Word would teach us that this grasping after self-promotion leads only to misery. But you can break out of this type of misery—you can choose to live in joy—right now, today, by doing “nothing from selfishness or empty conceit.” Choose instead to live in “humility of mind” by regarding other people as “more important than yourselves.” …

So instead of seeing people as a frustrating waste of your time, consider their need for being heard right now to be of more importance than what you’d otherwise be doing. Instead of making demands and asserting your rights, consider that what others need for doing their job or improving their skills takes precedence right now over whatever you were hoping to do for yourself. “Let each of you look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others” (Philippians 2:4 ESV).

You can’t be forced to live this way. You have to choose it, and most people don’t. So you and they can just keep sitting there under that oak tree, shaking your branches and trying to stand apart from the rest and from each other. But you will never live with joy if you continue to stay rooted and planted in selfishness.

Choose self, and choose misery.

But choose humility—choose others—and expect the leaves to start falling off that tree of sin and discouragement.

Let me quickly recap the last three days.

On Friday, after fall parties at school, I did not make the kids ride the bus home. I know, I’m a giver. It’s also a long weekend, so I let them crash and watch a movie when we got home. I know, I’m such a good mom.

During said movie and while I chatted with Eric on his drive home, a wail of agony suddenly filled the living room. In the (short) time it took me to realize this was an actual injury and get to the couch, blood was dripping from Erin’s eyebrow, down her cheek, over her jaw, down her neck and onto her shirt.

It turns out that there had been an “issue” about the remote control. It was “suggested” that Meg put the remote somewhere else. So she “tossed” it onto the couch. And somehow the remote smashed into Erin’s eyebrow, cutting open a small gash and bruising the area to boot. Both girls wailed (one from pain, the other because “I said I was sorry!”), but we did finally get everyone cleaned up and calmed down.

But THEN…

While at their grandma’s house on Friday night, the footrest of the recliner was somehow flipped out so that it smacked Timmy right under the chin. Much sadness ensued.

THEN…

Alex barfed at 12:30 in the morning on Saturday night after (apparently) too much excitement and heavy food at the birthday party we went to that evening. So we spent a half-hour stripping his bed, cleaning up, remaking the bed, and starting a rinse cycle in the washing machine. But he did feel much better after that…

And THEN…to ice the proverbial cake…

This morning, we were trying to get hair brushed and shoes on to get to church. I was brushing Erin’s hair, facing the couch where Megan was rolling around on the cushions next to Eric. As only Megan can do, she fell off the couch, face first, right onto the floor. Wailing ensued. Eric picked her up, and I fully expected to see a bloody nose, but no. Instead, there was a long wicked-looking scratch from just above the inside corner of her eye to mid-cheek, running parallel to her nose. How did it happen? She had fallen onto Erin’s foot and Erin’s toenail had scratched her face. Her TOE NAIL.

Seriously? I cannot explain how both normal and bizarre it is that in three days’ time, we have been cut open with a remote control, attacked by a footrest, over-partied, and been gashed by a TOE NAIL. Which, in case you wondered, I cut before we left for church.

And all I can think is how much every family and every house has its own brand of “you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Ours is crazy. Yours probably is too. And sometimes we just have to tell the strange episodes. Record them. Share them so that other parents feel better that, at least this weekend, their house was the normal one.

So, you’re welcome for that.

Oh, and after searching for almost 10 minutes, we finally found Timmy’s other shoe…on the kitchen counter. It’s our own crazy life, for sure.