If you could only imagine…

Last week our son-in-law, Zach, was going to be in our area and wanted to drop something by our house. Since I was working, he planned to bring their house key to let himself in.

I didn’t mention any of this to Russ as he was traveling that day and heading to the office when he got back to town.

Which he did for a short time and then, spontaneously, unannounced and uncharacteristically, he decided to leave the office early.

When I called him on my way home from work, he told me how he had come home and decided to shut his eyes for a short rest. He was awakened by what sounded like the front door opening. He said it was all kind of surreal and dream like. But as he walked down the hall, the front door was indeed open and guess who was in the living room???

At which point in his story, I gasped and in what can only be described as the smallest possible increment of time, created in my head a worst-case scenario fit for the CSI season premier…or finale…or both.

In full living color, my mind put together a whole string of “What if’s?????” that would have altered all of our lives in horrific magnitude.

And I experienced every single emotion that went with each frame of this nightmare.

Keep in mind that NONE of the conditions that warranted this reaction actually exist in our home.

Yet, my heart was pounding, guilt was mounting and I was spilling out all my worst fears to Russ…all because I had failed to tell him that Zach would be dropping something off at our house.

I must have apologized enough because he seemed ready to move on fairly quickly considering…

I know.

I also shared my long, involved, complex, made-for-TV movie thoughts with Rachel. But it was hard because I was on speaker phone so I had to describe all of the tragic details by spelling words out and giving clues so the little ears listening from their carseats were protected from the seriousness of the imaginary situation.

The following Saturday, she came to our house and was chatting with her dad in that very same hallway. They talked calmly about the event as it had ACTUALLY transpired and then she asked her dad if I had shared my “What if…” story.

My husband of 34 years sighed and said….”Yeah…she told me.”

I could sense both of them, looking at each other and nodding knowingly….cause I’m good at picturing stuff, you know.

She responded that the only thing that had come to her mind was she was glad Russ hadn’t just gotten out of the shower and appeared on the stairs with a towel wrapped around his waist.

He agreed and then they both laughed and, I’m quite certain, shook their heads. Because…

 

they both know…

I have died a thousand deaths, and faced at least that many crises, that were all created in my mind.

In less time than most people process the thought “Hey! what just happened here?” I have written out an entire complicated plot including the consequences and repercussions….and lived through every emotion and impact of the whole made-up mess. For everyone involved.

It’s exhausting being me…

I don’t really have a moral for this except that I am so thankful for God’s grace to give our family a level-headed father to help balance out the blonde in their mom. So thankful we each contributed genetically to their wiring…and that God didn’t clone me when He made our children….

TOO. MUCH. DRAMA.

Have a blessed weekend and a Happy Father’s Day to all the dads, grandpa’s and great grandpa’s out there!!!