So it's almost midnight and I'm perusing blogs instead of finishing the last chapter of this book. It makes absolutely no sense to me because once the book is finished, I get paid... and it's close to Christmas and being paid would be lovely. But no. Everything in my head is spinning so fast I can't concentrate on the Final Flippin Chapter!
Wanna know where my thoughts are?
I suppose I could share.
I get a call today about noonish from Andy's mom. I usually don't answer because I know she's just looking for him and will try his cell phone next. No biggie. Something told me to answer today. And I'm glad I did.
She's calm at first and asks who she's talking to (b/c apparently I sound like a man and she usually thinks I'm Andy when she calls). I tell her it's me and she immediately gets frantic. She's bawling on the phone, blubbering and I finally get it out of her, "My house has just been broken into! They've stolen everything, Christmas presents and the TV..." I stop her, tell her to keep calm (especially since Baby Love is over there) and call Andy. He's in a meeting of course... because that's what happens during every emergency. There is always some important business deal going down right when the family calls to report a pteradactyl in the backyard or something. Anyway, I simply tell Andy, "Call your mother right now, someone just broke into her house."
Andy, of course, being the "perfect son" heads straight to his mom's house, plays CSI guy and calms his mom down. A few hours later the police have come and gone, mama has a new door with steel reinforcements professionally installed and Andy is on his way home with the kids.
He's obviously upset. His mama is all of 4 foot 11.5 inches. She's just a short little, plump lady who wouldn't hurt a fly. She loves with all her heart and is completely devoted to her family. Her husband passed over 15 years ago she's never looked at another man. She still has birthday parties for him and celebrates his life, their lives together. She's an amazing person.
The middle son has graciously offered to hand over a wad of cash so Christmas will still be on for the kids at grandma's. An insurance claim will be filed of course, but it surely won't get here in time for Santa to deliver presents.
In my spare time (like right now, when I should be snuggled up next to my husband who will be leaving me in 2 short hours to go hunting) I was thinking... Mean People Suck! This is the time of year when people should be happy and smiling and giving and loving. This is the time of the year when fireplaces are lit and you can smell the chimneys through the whole neighborhood. And when kids are even watching the news to see if we will have a white Christmas.
This is also the time of year when the loser ass bullies are breaking into the homes of hard-working folks and rob their children of Christmas presents. And when thieves are everywhere, carefully stalking their next victim. When purses are held tight to the body and walking to your car alone in the dark after a shopping spree causes the heart to thump so loud you can hear it.
Which leads me to this... why is it people don't feel blessed until something bad happens? Everything revolves around Christmas presents. Do they even know why there is a Christmas in the first place? What this holiday really means? Andy said something to me tonight, I don't remember the exact comment, but my retort was, "Maybe this Christmas people should focus a little more on the blessings of health and family than how many Christmas presents are under the tree."
I wasn't being mean. He agreed actually. I'm guilty of not appreciating my blessings until a threat rears its ugly head. I am guilty of not teaching my kids the value of life and living a good life instead of fixing and pacifying them with material things. Sometimes it's hard to distinguish between bribing and teaching. And sometimes I'm just too lazy to fight about it, so I opt for the easy way out -- bribes.
My goal this Christmas season is to get closer to the basics and show by example how to bless others, instead of catching the kids counting how many gifts under the tree have their names on them and keeping some kind of tally to see who has the most. Andy and I seriously need to redirect our family so blessings are treated as blessings and gifts don't monopolize the meaning of Christmas.
And it took a robbery to hit me in the face. Pathetic.