Posted by: cmittermeier | March 2, 2015

Now that’s a curve ball to the exercise plan!

Sunday was not quite the day we expected.  Our basement developed a tiny little spring stream, an ice cold stream.  The floor has been ripped up, and now that temperatures have gone below freezing the stream has stopped and with the aid of several industrial fans it has dried up.  The culprit is a crack in our foundation that goes right down to the floor.  We’ll spend the next few days getting estimates from contractors to do an internal repair, then when it warms up we’ll see about the big job of excavating and repairing it from the outside.  I’m hoping its just a single crack.

There are many upshots to this, and exhaustion was one of them.  In addition to the work of wringing out towels, which was surprisingly much harder than I expected on my forearms, we moved our basement into our living room with the amazing help of our neighbour and his eighteen year old son.  They are growing up so fast!  I helped him with calculus later that night, and he was faster than I at the busy work.  Our living room looks more like a storage locker, boxes piled to adult height, furniture stacked like some oriental puzzle. Another unusual benefit is that we can rethink our space, so often we just leave things as they are.  My husband wants to explore the idea of moving some of the exercise equipment around, possibly making a  bit of a home gym.  In the mean time, I will continue to exercise by trying to sort through some of those boxes, hopefully lightening the final return load.

I am offering up the more problematic sides to this.  Though there are many positives that can come out of this, there are also tough moments.  One of the first moments was just before I left for the chapel.  I made my tea only to realize where I would normally sit had a printer on it.  As I moved items and found space on one of the chairs brought up from the basement I looked at all my piles and asked, “where is God in all this?” very gently to myself.  He had been so present the previous day, the stark reality of change was edging past the numbness of shock.  Where was I to anchor myself amid the disruption of my morning routine? I scanned the room, my eyes stopping on a plastic drawer unit.  I’d look around again, and return to the drawer.  Finally, I opened it up, to fish out the item that had kept calling my eyes back.  It was a small medallion to be kept in your purse, and Angel of Peace.  Yes, even in the disuption known as life, God is here.  I don’t think I’d been in the drawer for 15 years, a true time delayed message.

Today I was not able to focus much on my sons’ school work, I kept gravitating to the basement where I would use my swiffer like a squigee to help push the stream toward the drain.  I felt I just had to do something.  My life had been thrown a curve ball, and I hungered for the sense of control, and then later, the sense of purposeful movement.  There were lows and highs, and I am hoping tomorrow we have a bit more routine in the day.  If not, more to offer up.  So far the doses are small enough I can live them, the temptation to numb them with food has not been so bad.  

Now I must rest, confident that God has things well in hand.  Amid the storms of life, I’m glad to be able to rest my head upon a pillow and sleep nestled in the crook of his arm.  


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