Anyhow, this week, I have had several days when I felt
overwhelmed. It wasn’t because of my regular ongoing issues with constant food
prep and constant food decisions, nor with financial issues. What I thought was
exhaustion had to do with things I was doing for others.
Take yesterday. I printed our monthly newsletter. The
printer only kicks out so many pages at a time, so every so many copies, I must
run (well, walk quickly) from the living room to the back bedroom where that
dedicated desktop printer is kept, 52 feet away, remove the batch that just
printed, hit Print for another batch, and back again. Each round takes about 10
minutes. In between, every other batch requires I also open the drawer and
refill the paper tray. This takes almost two hours of movement and attention. And I try to fill the 10 minutes with small tasks.
An hour after that was finished, and I thought I could do
something routine and easy, we discovered that a dear friend’s home was broken
into while they were out of state. I was the one to call the police. I was the
one to stand outside while they made sure the thieves were no longer in that
home, to enter with them, to figure out if anything very obvious was missing
(the big flat screen tv was gone). I was in contact by email for several hours
with my friend on the details. I had the wrong key for the police at first;
that meant more running (well, fast walking) back and forth from my home to
theirs. It was already hot outside. We’re still in triple digits. Short
versions: after more than two hours, up and down steps, in front door and back door, cleaning up glass, I finally got home, popover dress clinging
to me as though I were in one of those wet tee-shirt contests. Dove into the
shower, I did.
By that time, I felt exhausted. Now, I know I wasn’t, not
really. To me, exhausted means unable to move another inch. Frankly, I was
tired. But I was still able to work on the rest of a baby jacket and hat for
the charity crafters.
Today, most of us in here were doing the Trash Can Minuet.
The company servicing our trash decided to automate, providing us last Friday
with huge 95-gallon bins. Most us are barely as tall as the bins. Today, they
came around, swapping them all out with 65-gallon versions. Up and down our
streets, some homes had 2 sizes of 2 bins (regular and recycle), some folks moving
one set in, one set out. For me, it also meant scooting over to my neighbor’s
to do theirs as well.
Ten years ago, going up and down the few steps of my
mobile home was nothing. These days, it takes its toll on my joints, but not to
a damaging degree. Just tiring. I also made a quick run to the store for
something for the fur baby and for me. Additionally, I needed to re-organize my
newsletter stats and routine. I needed to count out (I weigh them) rubber bands
for 4 people and bag and label them for this weekend. I needed to type (do we
still say “type”?) instructions, lot numbers, phone numbers, and so on, for
her. And, I needed to take two hours to staple the 400+ issues and bag them.
Once again, I felt exhausted but I knew I was simply,
understandably tired.
The thing is, there are times when these things have their
purpose. I wondered tonight whether I would still be able to “get around”
easily at this point in my life if I did not have some of these things to give
me a purpose.
We all have different things that keep us going - at some
point, it is family, caregiving, jobs, whatever...
Father in heaven, I must take time tonight to thank you for
keeping me going. Thank you, also, for the fortitude and stamina to help me accomplish tasks on time and in the right way. Thank you for friends who sometimes need me,
and for commitments that give me purpose. Help those I know and love to come easily
to you for that fortitude and stamina when they face things that seem
exhausting - bless us poor mortals and help us to do your will with grace and
dignity and love.
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