I Know What You Did

People are creatures of habit, and folks have a tendency to sit in the same pews [or chairs] each week at church. People sometimes ask other people to move so they can sit in "their" places. But that fine display of hospitality isn't what this post is about.

There are a couple of neat things about claiming a seat as your own. First, it makes it easier for the pastor to know who's missing. If you scoot all over the room, he or she might not notice for several weeks that you've been playing hooky. That may or may not be a good thing.

For instance, you'll probably be offended when nobody notices you're missing until you've been gone for a month or longer. To call you, or not to call you? That is the question. Because you'll probably feel controlled and be offended that you can't even be gone for a couple of weeks without creating an international incident or something. But this post isn't about being offended, either.

The other fabulous thing about claiming a seat as your own is that it makes it easier for the person who straightens up the auditorium (me) to know who it was that left used tissues on the floor, empty candy wrappers and unread bulletins in the seat-back pockets, sticky chewing gum under the seats, and almost-empty coffee cups leaking on the carpeting. But you'll be relieved to know that I'm not gonna call you out.

That's right, you (and you know who you are) are forgiven. Next Sunday, though, it would be so great if you could clean up the area around "your" seat. The person who straightens up the auditorium would really appreciate it. Thank you. You're awesome!

My Life Was Normal Once

So, I was cleaning up some files at work today. At the back of a drawer, I found a folder that contained some personal stuff, some business stuff, and some combination stuff. Including an appointment calendar from 2005. I know, right? Throw that thing out, for crying out loud!

But, wait:  2005. That was the year we went to New Orleans at Mardi Gras, and then we went to Aruba for the first time, and then we went to Houston and embarked on our first Caribbean cruise. There were also personal milestones of others which are their stories to share but helped make up the rich tapestry of that year. So, why did I hang onto this relic of memories past? I think it must have been so I wouldn't forget how tenuous "normal" can be.

You see, in 2005, my life was just about perfect. In fact, I remember thinking to myself that life was beautiful, and I couldn't imagine it getting better. You know that advice older people give you about doing things while you can and not putting everything off until retirement? Well, that's what we were starting to do.

And then, maybe a year later, things just didn't seem right with my husband. We attributed it to exhaustion, overwork, and so on. I'm sure most people do that. It was hard for his work to get done on time and with excellence. He was working ridiculous hours, leaving home at 6 a.m. and sometimes not returning until after midnight. I started helping him with his spreadsheets and reports, because he was so busy and working such long hours. In retrospect, I was helping to cover for him, to help him get by. He only had a few years to go before retirement.

And then he lost his job. It became obvious to others that his memory wasn't what it used to be. That he was having trouble picking up conversations where they'd left off. That he was repeating himself and asking questions over and over. And we began the testing process. The rest, as they say, is history.

All of that to say, your life as you know it could go on and on swimmingly until you someday ride off into the sunset with your love by your side, having lived, shall we call it, a "charmed" existence. Or, the fairy tale could be over tomorrow. Pack as much gusto as you can into today. You know that advice I was talking about a couple of paragraphs ago? Just do it.