A few days ago Peace yelled crossly from the kitchen, "Mom! Come in here now! And I mean it!" I flew like the blustery wind into the kitchen to find Peace grabbing towels from the bathroom and shoving them around the flooding dishwasher. Of course, Buck had left for work 15 minutes before, so it was completely up to me to figure out what to do next. And I am not a handygirl.
I opened the diswasher door and water still kept pouring in buckets onto the floor. My husband installed new flooring in the summer, and I grimaced at the prospect of it being forever ruined. I reached under my sink to turn off the water. By this time, all four children stood watching stunned that I had managed to stop the problem. Tater proclaimed, "Mom, you fixed it. I didn't know you could do that."
"It not fixed, bud. we won't be able to use the water in the sink," I snipped back at him. I have been far too impatient for some days now.
I called Buck on the cell, and the children followed me to the garage. "True, just find the dishwasher breaker and turn it off. Then you can use the sink." "I would if I could open the breaker box!" I grumped at Buck while I stood on the goat stand fiddling with the impossible latch. Tater shoved his way up to help me undo the black button to the grey cabinet. He found the word "dishwasher" typed next to number 14 and flipped the switch. We plodded back into the kitchen and I turned the water back on safely. Fortunately, I couldn't bite off anyone else's head, because the breaker trick worked. Next, I threw the sink rug outside on the sidewalk and a boatload of sopping wet towels into the washer.
My kitchen isn't set up to hold six people's dirty dishes except for inside the dishwasher, so I've been breaking glasses right and left as they plummet from the tiny drying rack. I feel irked waking up to countertops covered with dishes drying from the night before. Eating out or eating junky doesn't work for me either. The situation demonstrates to me my poor character, because something so mundane as not having a dishwasher puts me even more on edge. Friday, when the servicemen come to install my new appliance, this particular test will end with poor marks for me.
It's Advent for goodness sake, and I'm moody. Certainly not penitent and mostly not preparing my heart to recieve the Newborn King of Kings. How short I fall. I look for the day when I am not bent out of shape by ordinary disappointments of leaks.
It's long past time to begin homeschooling this morning, but I had sense enough to grant my children the freedeom to fly kites instead in the unusual and gray sky. I seek to center myself a little for this new fragile day of washing dishes by hand with thoughts of Advent calling me to something higher and more difficult- becoming the person I want to be. The unseasonably warm temperatures war with the North Wind to blow back in frost and wintery weather to our home on a country hill. The battle reflects my insides. Perfect for flying kites.