It was a typical morning of rushing to get out the door and of course, running late; thanks to one child in particular who I suspect gets a kick out of this. Then it’s a 20 minute drive to school, fighting my way through traffic.
My plan when I walk in the door is to eat breakfast, get in the shower and start on the heavy workload I have for the day. No time to waste.
But then I receive a text from my daughter. She forgot her swimming suit. My immediate thought is something along the lines of, “Oh well.” But one text message after another explains the dire circumstances she is in.
If she doesn’t swim that day, she will have to make it up. And with winter break, it will be difficult to do and of course, this will also affect me.
True. If she has to stay afterwards, I get to sit there for a good 45 minutes or so. Or I have to make two trips, one to pick up my son from middle school and then going back to get her.
Now here is what the old me would have done. I would have been angry and upset about the inconvenience of having to get back into my car (especially when I haven’t even gotten into the shower yet), to drive all the way back to her school.
It was sort of strange, as I started to try and make myself look somewhat decent before I dare step into the school’s office, at my reaction. I immediately noticed it. Hmmm…what’s this, I’m not even upset?
I couldn’t even make sense of it. This isn’t me. Someone has abducted that mother part of me that gets irritated at inconveniences like this.
Then as I was driving, it suddenly clicked. My life truly had been impacted by the tragedy at Sandy Hook. Deep down in my soul was a knowing that I was blessed to have this inconvenience. I was blessed to be able to drive back to my daughter’s school and drop off her swimming suit.
Could I have taught her a lesson about responsibility and consequences? I sure could have. And there is nothing wrong with that.
Yet suddenly those inconveniences don’t seem to carry the weight they once did. They can’t wreck my day like they did once-upon-a-time.