Monday, December 1, 2014

You Dropped a Bomb on Me

So Thanksgiving's happening. I leave my mom's house to make a couple of stops with the other side of the family. Ah yes, the burden of the child who has two sides of the family when the parent does not. It's big fun, I assure you.

When I left my mom all of the sides were done. As far as I knew, the turkey was done. We're waiting on a couple of guests to show up and putting the table settings together. I get back 2 hours later. No one has eaten. Man, COME ON!

My stepdad has two homeboys that are eating with us. One is there, the other ran to the gas station. And by ran, I mean he walked. But then the one he went to was closed. So he went to another one, and we waited. Chile, we waited.

So he gets back and we go around the room and say what we're thankful for.

My mother, and her chipper behind, drops a bomb that she's thankful for health screenings and prescreenings offered by her employer (she works at a hospital). She had a procedure done and they found a polyp that was precancerous and they removed it and she doesn't have cancer and praise the Lord. Next.

NEXT?!?!?!?!?!?! MA! Seriously? How are we supposed to process that before the cornbread? I just acted like I didn't hear her and thanked God. That's too much. And the fact that she went through it without telling anyone... Maybe she told her husband.

Then my aunt says she's happy for a job. She's been unemployed for XYZ time and starts her new gig tomorrow. I had no idea. Heavy.

THEN my stepdad's friend says he had two broken legs, a broken rib, was in a coma for 7 months and they thought he was going to die, but God. Heavier. (Maybe he was in a car accident, maybe he was beat up. I don't know. No one asked. I didn't ask.)

I did not cry around that circle, a miracle among all the other miracles we discussed. I think we need to start having testimony service early in the day. Give us time to praise, worship, mourn and weep, then we can eat later. I just wasn't ready that close to the ham and potato salad. 

Also, if you know my mom, can you maybe NOT mention this post to her. She doesn't read this blog or really know remember it exists. If she can't even tell her firstborn child she's going through a procedure, imagine the scolding I'm going to get that I shared her testimony with the internets. Ex-honey said she didn't want to worry me and I should be happy because there was nothing to worry about. Ex-honey is right. I talk to ex-honey. Sue me.

I am truly happy for all the blessings around that dinner table circle and my family and our dysfunctional communication. God is good, anyhow.

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