When It Rains...

When drama comes into our lives, it tends to go big. Generally speaking, there's no holding back-- we just get it all in one big whack.

Take this weekend, for example.

We were all looking forward to a nice, laid-back Saturday with our family to celebrate Taylor's birthday. Deciding to forgo extravagance for cake-and-ice-cream simplicity, we planned on relaxing and catching up on some much needed sleep.

Everything was falling into place, until Friday evening rolled around.
I heard the door to the backyard slide open, and Bryson came around the corner with a concerned expression on his face.

"Have you seen Penny?" he asked.

My stomach dropped to the floor.
"She's not in the back?" I asked, knowing already what the answer would be.
"No," he sighed. "I found a hole along the fence line. It looks like she got out through the neighbors' gate."
Suddenly it felt as if the room was closing in on me. I felt nauseated.

Our little dog was missing.

Dropping everything he had been working on in the yard, Bryson loaded Taylor & Reilly into the car and started combing the neighborhood. Whistling and calling her name, he turned up nothing. After getting the kids to bed, he took Domino out on her leash through the parks and nearby fields until dark hoping to find some sign of her. Nothing.

She was simply gone.
I was heartbroken. And guilt-ridden.

"I should have paid closer attention to them today," I moaned. "I was so worn out from this week, and so preoccupied with the kids. I didn't even think to check on them this afternoon."

"It's not your fault," Bryson tried to assure me. "Don't blame yourself. It is not your fault."

Exhausted, we fell into bed for another evening of broken sleep, nighttime feedings, and (on my part) several tears shed for our little dog. As daylight began to stream through our window, Taylor came in with more good news.

"Dad?" He began matter-of-factly, "There's water pouring in my window."
Bryson woke up and looked at him through bleary eyes. "What?"
"My room. There's water pouring down my wall from my window."

(Let me tell you, nothing wakes you up quite like that kind of information.)

After a week of frequent rainfall, the ground was quite saturated. But flooding? In our neck of the woods? Let's just say it's not a common problem.

That is, unless you leave the garden hose on.
All night long.
Yep, that'll do it.

In his haste to try and locate our missing Penny, Bryson had left the hose watering our raspberry patch and never turned it off. Now, twelve hours later, there was approximately six inches of water in Taylor & Reilly's window well, and the water was pouring inside. Reilly was still sleeping on their bed's bottom bunk, an island of safety in a cold, soggy swamp.

Suddenly our weekend of relaxation became a frantic dash to save the basement. Furniture moved, carpet torn up, water pumped away. Family members who had planned on coming to Taylor's birthday party in the afternoon began to show up early to help with the mess. And what a mess it was.

I asked my parents if they would mind picking up Taylor's birthday cake from the bakery since we were rather indisposed. A short while later, my dad called me from the store.

"They can't find the cake," he explained.
"They can't find the cake?"
"Nope."

Well, of course they couldn't.

But thankfully they whipped one up quickly, and that issue was resolved without too much trouble.

As the time of the party approached, I was feeling frustrated and past the point of over-exertion. This is just great, I thought. Lost dog, flooded bedroom... Happy Birthday, Taylor! Certainly this had to top the list of the all-time worst birthdays ever.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Watching Taylor as he reveled in the afternoon's festivities, you wouldn't have guessed how the preceding 18 hours had gone.

He was thrilled with every small detail. The cake, the company, everything couldn't have been more perfect in his mind.

"Oh my GOODNESS!" He loudly proclaimed after opening each gift, "This is just what I've always wanted!"

I was so relieved. Perhaps his weekend wasn't such a wash after all.
But what I hadn't been expecting is how he would single-handedly change my entire weekend around as well.

As he opened his last remaining present, I wasn't expecting the same degree of fanfare that he had expressed over his new dinosaurs, Tonka truck, and books. It was, after all, just an afghan. I had been working on it for quite some time, and it wasn't a big surprise. He had picked out the colors himself, and had seen me tinkering with it from time to time. So, while he had no idea that I had finished it just in time for his birthday, I was fairly certain that he would quickly dismiss it for the more exciting trinkets now scattered about the living room.

However, as he pulled the blanket from the wrappings, his eyes lit up in a way that I don't think I had ever seen before. He looked at me with a beaming smile.

"Mom! You finished it!" He whispered excitedly as he hugged it to his chest.

"Do you like it?" I asked.

He looked at me again with the 100 watt smile, and nodded. A smile that melted my heart. I blinked back the tears, and gave him a hug.

"I love you, Taylor."
"I love you too, Mom. I just love you so much."

Be still my beating heart.

So many things in life are of such little consequence. Situations and experiences that seem like terrible tragedies at the time are, in the grand scheme of things, minor speed bumps that serve to put life in perspective. Dogs get lost, basements get flooded. But love and family? These are the things that bring real meaning to our days. And as long as we have that, we have everything.

My five year old taught me this.
Consider my lesson learned.