Malaysia Flight, Oso Searches Must Be More Frustrating

Sam thinks I might need to invest in a bottle of ginkgo biloba. I had a memory lapse this morning and was unable to find the check I wrote for my church tithe. I swear I wrote the check at my desk a few minutes before time to leave the house. I tore the check from my checkbook, folded the check in half and put it someplace where no amount of raving, ranting and cussing helped turn it up. I generally put my tithing check in my wallet as soon as I write it, but for some reason today I got dressed first. I couldn’t find the check on my desk, on my bedroom dresser, in the bathroom, in any of the pockets of my clothes hanging in the closet. And no, I did not leave it in the checkbook. It was gone.

So, I cussed before going to church. Fortunately, I didn’t cuss too mightily or get really worked up like I have on occasions in the past (almost doesn’t count, right?). In the past I have tended to REALLY go berserk when I lose something. Unfortunately, that can ruin my whole day, Sam’s whole day and Kathleen’s whole day. Besides, I have learned in recent years that blowing up like a spewing volcano really takes the steam out of me. It actually makes me physically ill.

I decided I needed to let my frustration go so I started praying about it on my way to church then spent several minutes on the kneeling pad before I felt like I could sashay up to the altar later and accept a communion wafer and slurp of wine. I don’t like losing my temper, especially over a little thing like simply misplacing a check (or my truck keys or something else), because those things usually turn up after awhile anyway right under my nose. You can relate I’ll bet. Still, it’s really frustrating to hunt and hunt for something you know should be right where you put it (wherever that was) and not find it.

Of course, when you think about it, my frustration seems rather pathetic and self-centered given the frustration searchers for Malaysia flight 370 and the passengers’ relatives must be feeling after three weeks of no t knowing what happened.

And what about the frustrations of Snohomish County District 21 fire chief Travis Hots here in Washington State, as he attempts to cope with rescue workers, media people, and friends and family of victims buried in that massive mudslide in OSO? My problems are nothing compared to his. I’m praying for Travis.

Ironically, the first hymn we sang at church this morning was “Open My Eyes Lord.” How appropriate. And one of the scripture readings was about the blind man Jesus helped to see.

Okay. I think I’m getting the message.