I have been putting myself through a meat grinder lately. There are so many very big problems to solve, and I am just one girl. I feel like a one-armed paper hanger. On a treadmill. But I haven't complained, I just get up every day and do as much as I physically can and then when I run out of energy, I say my prayers and I go to bed exhausted, pushing everything else to the next day.
I didn't think my fiance had noticed. He's exhausted, too. Picking up extra shifts. No time off. Stress and work and stress and work. Cold weather and snow and broken down cars. But the other night, we were snuggled up on the couch and he turned to me and said, "I think tomorrow you should take a day, a day that's just for you. Don't do anything that's for me or for us, just for you."
We don't often have the financial resources to give each other gifts, but that moment of thought and care and permission to just let myself off the hook, it was the best gift he could've given.
While I loved the idea, I couldn't actually use the next day only for myself, because there was just waaaaaay too much that really did have to be done that day--in fact, I was only then getting to the things that should've been done two days earlier--but it sure did feel good to that he thought of it.
"Thanks, sweetheart," I said. Thinking to myself that maybe over the weekend I could have a day that was just for me to rest and paint and read and write and do yoga and watch a movie or anything (or nothing) else I wanted.
I got up the next morning and before I was even dressed, I posted a version of this story on Facebook, because it was such a thoughtful thing for Pete to do; I wanted to share it. And it got lots of likes and kind remarks and I could feel many of my friends, students, and family also wishing that I could have a day, just for me.
A short time later, the doorbell rang. I was still dressed in the long underwear I'd slept in, so I threw on a robe and answered the door. A handsome utility man dressed very much like the construction guy hero in
The Lego Movie told me that they were going to cut off the power to my house because they had to put up new telephone poles.
I had a flash of panic. I had a deadline! Friendly and bed-headed, I explained to the man that I had a deadline this morning, but that I'd be leaving for physical therapy at 12:45. He said, "Okay. We'll do the one next door first."
This mean that I would have time to meet my deadline (I did), and that when I got back from physical therapy, there will be no power for a few hours. Which meant, no Internet-based work, no returning of phone calls (because we have VoIP), no baking, no cooking, no e-mailing or Facebooking, no doing of dishes, no elliptical machine, no vacuuming, and no other work that requires electricity. All of the things on my To Do list required electricity.
Now, I could have gone out into the world and found some Wi-Fi or maybe even a phone, but I really felt that this time was a gift. It meant that the Universe had carved out for me a few daylight hours when I could just enjoy the warmth of my fireplace and do the quiet things that nourish me.
I went back onto Facebook before I lost my power and shared the latest development. And then I wrote, "Thanks, Universe! And thank you, Peter, for making the wish. And thank you everyone who heard about his wish and also wished it for me. Well done, my friends."
And then I lived happily ever after. The end.
