dropping the giant

There are days when everything is practically perfect – including me.


Then there are days like today.


Our nights have been getting warmer and more humid as the summer sets in.  That makes sleeping a bit challenging – especially for an aging former Oregonian who considers the proper sleeping weather to be about 50 (degrees, not years).


For whatever reason, I could not sleep past 5 this morning.  So, I got up and started my day.  Just as I was getting my morning reading done, I felt tired.  Real tired.


When you are retired, there are no voices that nag if you fall asleep you are going to waste the best part of the day.  Frankly, I think sleeping is a grand way to properly spend that currency.  And I did.  For five more hours.


That did not seem to be a bad start for the day.  But my computer did not agree.  I have my entire computer support system (you do not want to know how many wires that is) plugged into a very small gauge extension cord.  Well, let’s say, I had it plugged into that extension cord.


When I originally sat up the system in its current location, I knew the cord could not handle the electrical load.  It was temporary.  And it has remained that way for eight months.  Until today.


I was talking with a friend on Skype and knew something was not right.  Just as my voice faded on his end, I saw what was wrong.  Wisps of smoke and sparks were coming from the extension connection.  I caught it just in time before the rest of the system was affected.


I drove around town looking for a thicker extension cord.  None are to be  found.  At the moment, I have everything in another “temporary” set-up.


While I was drafting a series of blogs (on an entirely different topic), I heard my front gate bell.  It was my neighbor – the owner of La Rana.  I invited him in.  But it was obvious he was not there to bring tidings of great joy.


To cut to the point – I lost another window in the truck while it was parked on the street.  This time, the rather complicated rear window.


But the culprits were not thieves.  It was a little boy with a rock.  A David who mistook my Escape for Goliath.


All of the neighbors were there fully expecting, I suspect, to see an angry truck owner.  The boy was in tears.  (Having been a boy, I know that penitence is the best defense -- and tears are worth, at least, an additional 10 points.)


I looked at the window and told his mother I would get it replaced.  She wants me to hold her son responsible.  The scene ended in him hugging me.


The cost is far more than an 8-year old can absorb.  And, for me, it is simply foregoing – well, probably nothing.  It will be repaired, and just like the other repaired window, I will give it no further thought.


But I will talk with the boy when the window is repaired.  I am going to forgive him, but I want him to learn that kindness needs to now move beyond me to him.  It will be his duty to share the same grace with those he encounters.


So, it was not a bad day, after all.