Delays and Interruptions

I was, ironically, stressed about needing to pick up my herbal anti-stress supplement.

The kids were taking forever to fall asleep.

Pascal was wiggling and leaping around his bed like someone had slipped him a cup of Coke.

Kachi wanted to tell me the convoluted rankings of every kid in his class - best and worst arm wrestler; third, second and first fastest runner; neatest printer; fastest adder, etc.

Vava was awash in the tragedy of existing as an imperfect human (can we tell she's my daughter? lol).

Sam was unsympathetically listening to her, interjecting unhelpful observations at the worst opportunities.

And Patrick was rearranging the living room to set up the new computer.

So it was a busy night chez Labelle, and everything kept interrupting and slowing me down when I just needed to dash to Walmart. 

It was 9:35 when I finally got into the van. Twenty five glorious minutes before they closed.

I backed out onto the road and felt an unmistakable wobble.  My tire had been showing obvious signs of needing air for weeks now. It was past time to fill it up. So with a sigh, I headed to the service station.

It's been a long time since I filled a tire with air.

I swiped my card, unscrewed the cap, and stuck the nozzle on the tire.  The pump rumbled to life and air whooshed out. But my tire didn't rise. It stayed depressingly flat, 20 psi; a far cry from the suggested 36.

When the pump shut off and the tire still wasn't inflated, I called Patrick. Then, feeling like a ninny, I watched a YouTube video on how to inflate your tires.

I'd been holding the handle wrong.

Patrick showed up and I inflated the tire - correctly, this time. Then we hopped into the van to try our luck at getting into the store 5 minutes before close.

As we parked, I noticed someone standing in the parking lot with a full cart, wearing a snowsuit. Must be waiting for a taxi, I thought as we zipped inside.

We were in and out in less than 2 minutes. Sweet success! 

But outside in the cold, the person was still standing with their cart. 

"Should we offer them a ride?" I asked Patrick. 

"Whatever you want," he replied. 

So we pulled up beside them and did.

Bundled up beneath that snowsuit, struggling with a broken crampon, was a little old lady. In her cart were four bags of groceries and a cane.

"Oh, are you sure?" she asked, "I was planning to walk, but it's so slippery tonight, and my grips broke. My cane is good enough on a dry night, but I need my grips on the ice."

Very sure, I promised. We helped her in, and drove her home. Not so far, but far enough on a warm night. Far enough without a cane. Far enough without four bags of groceries. Too far, too cold, and too slippery on a night like tonight.

When I was walking into my own house, warm and lazy on two good legs, I realized why I'd been so slowed down. 

You wanted her to have a drive home, my heart smiled at God.

Yes; I just love her so much, He replied.

Which is, of course, why He sent Jesus.

He wanted us to have a drive home.

He just loves us so much.

Merry interruptions and delays at Christmas, friends. He just loves us so much. xo.