It is amazing, what ramifications can occur because of one small mistake. One rash decision, one impulsive leap, one lapse of judgement -- can make or break our lives. Perfection is not possible in this life and I can't say that I'm crazy about making anything perfect. I'm really okay with the fact that nothing is. But then there's those cliffs with crumbly edges. That one number that's off. A tiny detail that gets missed. A few inches of pavement between my pretty red car and that 18-wheeler. A lot can happen in the blink of an eye or in the one digit that didn't seem to matter.
I had a contract, months ago, where everything was crazy and helter-skelter, but then in the eye of the hurricane we somehow got it to closing. Cheers all around and the sellers wandered off to their completely new life, the buyers settled in to a great house, and the rest of us jumped back into the seething pool of activity that's always at the door. Months and months go by and a little mistake, with big ramifications, emerges. Seems like every single entity that was at that closing table missed a minor detail, setting off a firestorm of emotions. Sorta reminded me of insects scrambling when the light gets turned on. I was the least culpable of the guilty parties, but I was indeed at fault. That old adage about the log and the splinter. Yup, it's true. We all saw logs in everyone else's eyes and only splinters in ours. But what happens when you view a splinter up close? It looks just like a log. Tempers rising. No one wants to admit they did anything wrong. This is human nature. We hate to admit that we make mistakes or that we are not perfect. We want to blame someone else. We all do it. No one wants to take the fall. But here we were, all bearing some measure of fault. My weekend consisted of two nights of worry at what might happen on Monday. Tomorrow is another day. I'll think about it tomorrow. But Monday comes in the morning, even when you try to put the brakes on it.
I hunkered over my computer, making lists, calls and hammering out emails. My husband asked me if we could take a break and go to a movie. A movie, when the world is caving in?! But we went. For two hours, I watched a true story of valiant (some not so much) men saving other peoples' lives. Taking bullets and sacrificing their own bodies to protect their country across the water. My problems seemed like so much silliness. Ken deposited me back at the house to finish my toiling; he left to run errands. I was thick into my "important" stuff, stressing and worrying about all that was before me. I was almost done when he snuck up behind me, one hand holding chocolate and the other holding flowers. It was too much to hold in and I boohooed like a baby. Love can walk through fire without blinking.
I laid all this at the feet of the Lord, praying and asking Him to help me and us. I have only so much wisdom or power or brains to figure it out. He gave me peace, as I thought about Him in the storm, asleep on a pillow. That image is one of my favorites and I bring it up a lot. Sorry if this is redundant. The storm is raging, the disciples are moaning about dying and He's just lying there, sleeping. He's God, so He's really not asleep like we would be. He knows what's going on but He's also man so His body needed to rest. Then I thought about my predicament, how one silly mistake (more like a comedy of errors) might end up costing me (and my cohorts) a lot of money. If everybody bows up and lawyers up and the volcano rises, it could get pretty ugly. But on the other hand, if everybody owns their mistakes, takes responsibility, and shares in the correction, we might get through this without bullets or courtrooms. Praying for that. I love the Lord and I love His humor. He's not asleep and not a sparrow falls without His notice. I feel like a baby wrapped up in His arms tonight. I think I'll go on to sleep now.
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