faith, flotsam

Weekend backstory

The apartment complex had told me that my door would be replaced on Friday. And then they didn’t show, without so much as a word.

Annoying, right?

I don’t call and complain about it, but internally, I grouse. Because it’s irritating when people say they’re going to do something, and then they don’t.

That’s true. But hold that thought.

Then they came on Saturday morning. Again, without any word to that effect. Didn’t show on Friday, come instead on Saturday. If that were a problem, that would be a problem. Because, yo, they knocked out my door.

The ladies were supposed to come over on Saturday morning. Usually it’s at my place. But this week, it wasn’t. Not by my choice. Not really something that had been discussed with me. Just an email, announcing to all of us that we’d be at the church office, and on Sunday night instead of Saturday morning.

I wasn’t really sure how to feel about that, but I realized, in retrospect, that a better plan was in place. Because there was no way the ladies could have come over on Saturday morning while the door was being torn off and replaced. And, as I learned on Saturday afternoon, it would have been a mad scramble even if they’d showed up on Friday, because their idea of post-construction cleanup is decidedly different from my idea of post-construction cleanup. There was dust everywhere when they were finished, and it would have been a huge undertaking to get the place cleaned in time for company the next morning, even if they’d been on time.

So things were working out in ways unexpected, but decidedly for the best.


Until the phone rang at noon, some 4 hours into the construction project that appears it will never end.

Local number, but not one I recognized.

Still, I answered. Which is not something I usually do when I don’t know the number.

It was the pastor’s wife.

We were supposed to be having lunch.  Right. Then.

She was calling me from the restaurant where I was supposed to have met her. But I had not met her. Because I had completely forgotten about it until I heard her voice.

Because I am the worst person in the entire world.

I immediately feel terrible. I mean, I forgot about a person. A perfectly lovely person.

That’s a lousy thing to do.

And, I didn’t show up when I said I would.

Which, as we established at the beginning, is incredibly annoying.

What a wonderful lesson you are teaching me, Lord.

So I apologize, and I explain about the unexpected construction, and debate whether I could leave to meet her right now (if she wouldn’t mind waiting a few minutes longer) and whether I should leave this project unattended at this stage.

I could leave. Really, I could. Probably. But I’m coated in construction dust, as is most of my apartment. Can’t really clean myself up properly, especially with a cluster of workmen in my presently doorless apartment. Not entirely sure about the efficacy of escape in light of the plethora of tools and materials piled across the entryway.

In her place, I am not sure how I would react. With disappointment, frustration, anger?

She was… gracious and forgiving. There was not even the slightest hint of reproach in her voice. She had ridden over to the restaurant on her bike, she said, and it had been an absolutely beautiful day for it. She would pick up some pad thai and take it home, and we could reschedule.

She was, in every way, the very embodiment of grace to me in that situation.

Again, thank you for this lesson, Lord. And bless her in every way, for being Your grace to me, and to overcome my thoughtlessness.

The construction was done around 1:30PM. More than 5.5 hours after it began. I guess it takes longer than they expected. My new door is very pretty. There’s a pleasant sort of new wood and fresh paint smell that only strikes me downstairs. Eventually I got the mess cleaned up. Sunday PM with the ladies was lovely.

And that’s the backstory of this weekend… as I know it.

1 thought on “Weekend backstory”

  1. You’re being too hard on yourself – I think anybody would understand, given the circumstances. And I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving my apartment unattended with a gaping hole where the door used to be, even if said hole is sort-of filled with workers! Especially if said hole is sort-of filled with workers…


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