Yesterday I was in a bad mood. Everything had fallen in around me and I had one too many issues heaped upon me. My customary sunny disposition grew a little dark. The last 4 years have built to a crescendo of issues; worsening health, money problems, my father died, the swami died, my uncle died, my son died, more financial issues. Writing blogs about the difficulties of poor and disabled people usually makes me feel much better. Aside from prayer, it is all I can do to help the poor who are being squeezed tighter and tighter every day, especially the elderly and the disabled, who can do little to alleviate their situation. I am the guinea pig, so to speak. My life exemplifies the lives of so many other people that all I have to do is write about what I encounter daily, and I get my point across.
But what about the bad mood? The sense of hopelessness and vulnerability? Usually, my faith holds me together, despite the many hours of isolation within which the accidental hermit lives.
Last night, a friend came over for tea. She helped me with a few things around the house and we began to laugh about the ordinary moments of ridiculousness.
We moved the mattress on my bed and, when I took the sheets out of the dryer, they had "pills" all over them! It was disgusting. They were the cheapest sheets I could find at K-Mart when I got the larger bed, but they still had cost me more than $30! We tried EVERYTHING to get those pills off the sheets, resorting, finally, to a roll of tape meant to remove dog hair from one's clothes, when I realized that my fabric shaver needed a battery that I didn't have. We kept getting that tape stuck on our fingers and my hair kept getting in the way. The tape was pink with zebra stripes. It was just ludicrous. My friend kept making fun of my sheets and telling me, "You have GOT to buy some new sheets, girl," while struggling to get the pills off of them. We laughed and laughed.
My rather large cat decided to leave the biggest, stinkiest present in his litter box that I have ever seen. The house was immediately inundated with a foul odor. Frantically, I slapped on a face mask and some surgical gloves and hurried to remove the offending present. My friend's comments made me laugh and laugh so hard that I gave myself a "stitch" and it is still there, in my left side. It hurts to cough.
When I had captured the offending items and sealed them in a special odor masking plastic bag, my friend ran it out to the trash, nearly gagging on the way. Afterward, we lit incense and put it in my bathroom AND my bedroom, where the scent had wafted on what evil breeze, I do not know. I lit a candle. The laughter continued.
A disgusting job was made funny and therefore more enjoyable, in an odd way. We had another cup of tea and had more conversation. She left, promising to visit me again soon.
After she was gone, I enjoyed two beautiful, home made burritos that she had brought over to me for my dinner and watched an old television episode on my computer.
This morning, my problems are still with me, but the burden is lighter, thanks to last night's visitor, the prayers of more distant friends, and, most of all, the generosity of our good Lord who comes in the guise of helpful friends and laughter.
Copyright (c) 2014, Silver Rose Parnell
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