Immediately I thought of the day before, when two of my kids and I had witnessed — and very nearly been involved In — a scary accident. I couldn’t count how many times in the previous 18 hours I had relived the events, imagining what if scenarios.

What if I hadn’t been 100% focused on driving? (How many times have I had to referee arguments or dole out admonitions in the car?) I wouldn’t have had the wherewithal to swerve off the road when the car in the opposite lane came careening towards us, bouncing off the guardrail at least once and crossing the double yellow lines a couple of times.

What if there was no shoulder on that section of the road, as there isn’t along so much of that particular route? I know this because I actually was in an accident on the very same road more than 20 years prior, when an oncoming car coming downhill around a corner blinded me with high beams and I overcompensated to the right, catching the guardrail which was snug up against the side of the road and riding it for 50 feet, somehow rendering my car undriveable, yet leaving me mostly unscathed.

What if the woman’s car, when it careened off the road and down into a ravine, hadn’t gone directly between another guardrail and a cluster of boulders, instead ramming head on into either one?

All of this probably transpired in five seconds, but it seemed surreal, playing overandoverandover in an endless memory loop – and reminded me of watching the kids play arcade race games where they drive off cliffs, through trees, into other cars, yet they still finish the race. Real life isn’t like an arcade game, though!

What if the other two guys behind the woman hadn’t pulled over to help and I had to be the one to go running down the hill through the brush, rather than simply being the one to call the police, relaying messages from down below? I wouldn’t have wanted to make a decision about pulling someone from a vehicle – and imagine if it was on fire –  with two of my three children trailing me, because of course they ignored my command to stay in the car.

Soon, we could hear sirens in the distance. One of the guys at the bottom of the hill had helped the woman out. She seemed to be in shock, but okay. The airbag hadn’t even deployed. Police, EMTs, and a fire truck came. We talked to one of the officers briefly, answering, “Of course – click it or ticket!” when he asked my kids if they were wearing their seatbelts.

I know my boys were working through their own mostly unspoken what if scenarios, too, since there was much trouble going to sleep the night before, and I had been shushed by, “I can’t talk about it, Mom. I don’t even want to think about it,” when I thanked God during our dinner and nighttime prayers. The only thing that had been uttered aloud was, “What if we were all killed, what would our brother do?”

Good thing we didn’t need to find out. As it was for me 20 years ago, as it was for us the day before, as it has been all the days in between, and as it will be from this day forward, the hand of God is there to hold us, guide us, and protect us.

…though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the LORD upholds him with his hand. ~Psalm 37:24 NIV

Have faith. Happiness will be yours.

My older boys found the leftover New Year’s Eve fortune cookies while my youngest and I were at hockey. The wrappers littering the TV tables gave it away. I said, “So, what did you get for your fortunes?”

“Mine said something about being rich and famous,” my oldest said.

“Oh.”

“Mommommom, let me read you mine: ‘Have faith. Happiness will be yours.”

“Hmmm. That’s a good one,” I said, distractedly, as I started picking up cookie and gum wrappers. “Boys, can you get your dishes out of the living room and get your basketball stuff together– we have like 20 minutes before we have to leave. You need to eat something besides cookies and gum and I have to take care of the dog.”

“Well, I just took him out and he peed,” my middle son said.

“You did? That’s great — thanks!”

I bolted up to my office to check my email to make sure the message I’d sent to the vet about the dog’s upcoming appointment went through. It had. Then I went back downstairs and started gathering up all the shoes, hockey pads, and the trash can to stash in the downstairs bathroom. I didn’t want the dog to do anything naughty while we were gone. “You didn’t shower,” I said to my youngest.

“Yes, I didn’t. I’ll do it later.” Fortunately he didn’t need Febreze® as much as the contents of his hockey bag did, which were mostly all out on the porch, if they weren’t in the bathroom.

“Boys, please. Shut off those electronics, get your drinks, and get out to the car.”

I herded everyone outside amidst mild chaos, told the dog to ‘guard the palace,’ and locked the door. We were at the end of the street when I realized I didn’t have my phone.

I don’t want to say I panicked, but I kind of did. I could’ve turned around then but I couldn’t even remember exactly where it was, so depending on how long it took to find, we risked being rushed or late getting from point A to point B. I convinced myself I’d be fine being disconnected from calls, email, and apps for four hours, which is how long we’d be gone altogether after going from point B to point C where the boys had a second basketball game.

As we were driving along, I realized I had left my GPS behind as well. At that point, I knew I’d have to go back to the house. I was fine with getting from point A to B, and in fact we were early, but not confident about getting from point B to point C, given my experience the last time I’d gone through the Drum Hill Rotary. If I’d at least had my phone, I could have got away with no GPS, as my phone has a map app. I dropped the Bigs off and headed back home.

It was quiet in the car with just me and my youngest, since he unearthed a Gameboy that had been tucked into some crevice in the back seat. I had a little time to think. I thought about how I still had to – no, “get to,” I corrected myself – write the invocation for church the next day, and when was I going to have time to come up with anything clever given our sports schedule and dinner and movie plans we had for that evening? I’d had all sorts of ideas during the previous week. Maybe I’d be able to write something that tied in with the scripture or one of my devotionals from the week (delivered electronically to my phone via my Bible app), or perhaps that was relevant to the Lord’s Prayer itself. But as quickly as the ideas came, they went. Then I thought again about my middle son’s fortune cookie.

“Have faith. Happiness will be yours.”

Hmmm. That could be interpreted a couple of ways.

It could mean “don’t give up hope, someday you’ll be happy…”

How many of us have thought, “I’ll be happy when I can go on vacation,” “I’ll be happy when I lose that last 10 pounds,” “I’ll be happy when I get a promotion, a new job – or just any job.” “I’ll be happy when I retire.” “I’ll be happy when it’s Friday – couldn’t possibly be happy on a Monday.” “I’ll be happy when I finish this project, get a better car, move into a bigger house, in a different neighborhood. “ “I’ll be happy someday…”

Or it could mean “if you have faith in God, you will be happy, despite your circumstances.”

We can be happy no matter what, right now, today. We can practice an attitude of gratitude and even everyday things can bring great joy. My middle son doesn’t mind folding laundry and does more than his share – he has told me he likes how it smells. Upon discovering that we had four gallons of milk after my last trip to the supermarket, he announced, “I love it when our fridge is full.” We thank God for our home, our family, the food on our table, our dog, the chance to play sports, the games won and even the games lost since we’ve done our best…we try to remember to thank God for anything we can think of.

Later, after basketball, I asked my middle son, “You know that fortune you got this morning, ‘Have faith. Happiness will be yours’– what do you think it means?”

Without hesitation he answered, “It means if you have faith in God you will be happy.”

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus”

~1 Thessalonians 5:18

Of the utmost importance is which sports logo shirt to wear on any given day.

I began to ask myself what could be worse than a dryer repair bill a couple of weeks before Christmas as I was hanging the clothes on the drying rack this morning, when I realized we’d be a lot worse off if the washing machine was broken (with our “load-a-day” habit).

“Yeah,” he said with a lopsided grin. “The lady offered to…”

“Did she help you pick it out, too?”

“No, I did that all by myself. There was another one I liked, but I thought this one was better for you.”

“This one’s perfect; I love it!” I slipped the unique silver and amber-colored crystal ring on my finger and admired my hand, glad I’d done my nails recently.

“And he spent all his money on it – yeah, he spent…” his brothers piped up.

“La la la la la,” I sang with my hands over my ears. When their mouths weren’t moving anymore, I took my hands away. “I don’t want to know anything about that. We don’t talk about the cost of a gift, because the value could be much different.”

But I couldn’t ignore what I had heard. “Did you?” I turned to my oldest.

“Well, not all of it…”

My son had started the “Chore Apprentice Program” this year.

“What’s that!?” or “Good luck with that!” were comments I had received from friends. Really all the “program” entails is my son comes home from school rather than go to Extended Day and learns how to do things around the house, like dishes, laundry, vacuuming, simple cooking, or a trip to the store around the corner. Not only does he earn money for performing his jobs, but also he learns skills that he will need when he leaves the nest, because contrary to earlier beliefs, his wife is not going to do “all that stuff.” And even if his wife did do some of “that stuff,” he’s going to need to know how not to turn his laundry pink, not to eat on paper plates for every meal, and not to breed dust bunnies in between the time that he leaves home and gets married.

“But what about your sweatshirt?”

A couple of weeks prior we’d been in a sporting goods store and he’d spied a had-to-have, brand-name sweatshirt. “I really want to get that, Mom. Can you lend me the money? I’ve already got almost half.”

“Are you sure you want to spend that much money on a sweatshirt? You can buy this one over here for the money you do have.”

“Well, that one’s not abc brand.”

“So? You think because it’s abc brand it’s worth double?”

“Well, to me it is. Can you lend me the money?”

“No, Hon, that’s too much of a risk for me.”

“C’mon Mom, if I don’t pay you back, you don’t have to pay me my allowance.”

“Nope. How would I ensure you did any chores if I didn’t pay you?”

“But Mah-ahm. What if they sell out?”

“Look, if I were a bank, I wouldn’t be comfortable with that kind of lending risk, not even with a really high interest rate.”

My son scowled and glowered at me all the way out of the store and for a good amount of time during the car ride, too. We did not discuss it further.

“I can start saving up again.”

“It’ll take a while…”

“That’s okay, Mom.”

Even though the ring really is beautiful, it’s my son’s thoughtfulness and sacrifice that I value the most. I was tempted to buy him the sweatshirt – it’s not like we aren’t in that particular sporting goods store every other week or so anyway. But neither did I want to devalue my son’s gift to me nor the purchase he was going to make for himself, so I didn’t.

Thanks to the Chore Apprentice Program, it wasn’t long before he acquired his sweatshirt – and he knows how to wash it, too.

Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. ~2 Corinthians 9:7 NIV

“Okay, Mommy. I mean, Mom. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too. That’s why I wanted to tell you all this stuff.”

I had just finished a dramatic explanation of how I felt that morning when I came back downstairs after changing the status on my computer to “I am not at my desk” and he was no longer standing in the kitchen, nor was he in the bathroom, man cave, nor anywhere in the house. I bolted outside in my socks and called for him, but he was nowhere in the immediate vicinity. “God help me,” I said – it’s probably my most frequently uttered prayer – as I rushed back inside, grabbed my keys, and scuffed into my sneakers, hobbling to the car with my laces undone.

As I pulled up to the intersection with Main Street, which is only 50 feet from our driveway, and prepared to make a left turn, I saw a police car, two school buses, and a bunch of other vehicles stopped behind them. I got in line but then my view was obstructed. Tick tick tick, I though impatiently.

Momentarily the police car pulled into the bank parking lot, the school buses turned off their flashing lights, and traffic began to flow again. I paused alongside the police car and lowered my window. Thankfully I knew the officer, who said, “He’s one of yours.” It was not a question, as much as a statement.

“Yes!” I said. “How far did he get?”

“Oh, he made it as far as xyz street when I stopped him and asked him where he was going.”

“He wasn’t scared, was he.” Again, not a question, as much as a statement.

“Not at all. He was just walking along, eating his biscuit. He told me he was going to school.”

“Toaster pastry. He’d already eaten but insisted he was hungry again and that’s why he missed the bus.”

“You didn’t – “

“No, of course not! I told him we’d walk to school as soon as I changed the status on my computer. I work at home and have to let people know when I leave the office…I guess he missed the part about ‘we’.“

“Yeah, well, the lady in the white house over there flagged me down. It seems she saw him crossing Main Street…”

“No! He crossed Main Street by himself!?” I was both impressed with and worried about my son’s intrepid spirit.

“Hang on a sec, I have to let the station know that we’ve notified you. Actually, you ought to head up to the school.”

“Thanks, I sure will,” I said, speeding the wrong way through the bank drive through.

“Can I help you?”

“Well, yes…I have a situation…are you…?” The woman in the office looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember exactly who she was.

“I’m so and so, from the guidance staff.”

“Oh, right! Great! I think you’re actually my son’s guidance counselor.”

“Yes – quite a personality.”

“Well, he decided to walk to school today, and…”

“Do you know where he is!?”

“He’s here, somewhere…I’m not sure what bus he came on…” and I recounted the events that had transpired in the past seven minutes or so.

“That sounds just like him.”

“Yeah, it does.”

I could hear the other woman in the office on the phone: “Yes, we know, thank you. The mom’s here.” Apparently the bus company had called.

“He has some qualities that will serve him well in life. When he’s older. But for now…you’ve got your hands full with that one.”

It was not the first time I’d heard that. “Do you think you can discuss this with him?”

“We’ll have him meet with the principal right after announcements.”

Two older girls had come into the office and were preparing to read the announcements, so I whispered, “Thank you. Call me if you need me – I’m right up the street and work at home.”

On the way out, I told the policeman, who had parked in the school driveway, “You know, he’ll be meeting with the principal in about ten minutes, if you’d like to join them.”

That afternoon when I concluded the conversation with my son, I told him, “I’m not mad at you, honey.”

He replied, “That’s just what the principal and the policeman said, Mom! Except they didn’t call me ‘honey.’ ”

Brothers can be thick as thieves (whatever that actually means) or the worst of enemies. Or both. Sometimes all at once, depending on alliances (since there are three).

I caught these two at their best. What you don’t see is my oldest’s foot, which he was trying to use to pry these two apart while he lay on the floor supposedly looking for his eraser under the other couch.

Never a dull moment…

This is our “Thanksgiving Tree,” where we acknowledge our gratitude. In addition to “family,” “friends,” “my job,” and the like, this year we wrote “electricity” in light (and heat) of the Nor’easter that put so many if is in the dark (and cold) this past weekend. We pray that our neighbors’ power is soon restored and for the crews that have been working around the clock to ensure that it is.

That night was my middle son’s baseball evaluation; his older brother’s had been a couple of nights prior.

The custodian said to me, “You know, So-and-so is downstairs tonight, giving a talk.”

I replied, “Oh, yeah, I read about that.”

“You’re welcome to go down, she’s in the theater right downstairs.”

“Oh, thanks, but I can’t. I want to watch my son bat, even though ‘An Evening with So-and-so’ was touted as ‘a highlight of Women’s History Month featuring So-and-so, host of her own series on the Travel Channel. As a strong woman of today, she will discuss her career, her travels and the strong women who have inspired her in her success.’”

I actually had to watch my son bat, just as I’d had to watch the fielding and pitching drills. He kept looking up to make sure I was watching him, whenever he was waiting his turn at each of the stations.

When the evaluations were over, we reconvened on the stairway landing: he’d headed up at the same time I’d headed down.

“How did you do, honey?”

“Okay. I missed the first two pitches.”

“Yeah, I saw. But if you were in a baseball game, I bet would have got on base — you hit the third pretty well.”

“Pitching was when I was in really in my baseball zone. I felt like everyone around me was Jacoby Ellsbury and Josh Beckett.”

“Yeah, I saw that, too. Well, good — I’m so happy it’s baseball season!”

“Me, too, Mom.”

We walked down the stairs together and I wondered how I was going to juggle three baseball teams (majors, minors, and tee-ball). I had hoped that my older two could be on the same team, but that would mean my middle son would have to play up (“if appropriate,” I had added to his registration form), because I wouldn’t want to hold my older son back. I had also requested that we have one or both of the same coaches as last year (“as appropriate”). I snapped out of my reverie as I realized my son had taken off to run up and down the hallways with his younger brother and some other kids, leaving me holding his bat and glove. My oldest had remained in one place with his iPod Touch since we’d arrived.

I bumped into the custodian again who said, “Are you sure? You can just sit in the back of the auditorium — the theater is right over here.” He walked alongside me and indicated the door to the theater as well as the table with the promotional flyers about So-and-so, host of her own series on the Travel Channel.

“Maybe another time — I’ve got to get my kids out of here.” I would have liked to hear a strong woman of today discussing her career, her travels, and the people who have inspired her success. I was sure I could relate: I have a career and I travel, but the people who inspire my success needed to get home for dinner.

On the way home, we decided that however the teams work out, we’d accept it. We’re all just so happy it’s finally baseball season!

Published 7/15/11 in the Groton Landmark

I continued, “You know when you’re really little and you think your parents are the bestest…”

“Yeah,” my youngest interjected.

“And then when you get a little older you start to get embarrassed by them.” I paused and nudged my oldest who was in the seat next to me.

“Well, you didn’t used to act like you do now, mom.”

“Yes, I did, you just don’t remember.” I went on, “Then when you get a little older (like my friend’s kids) but not quite out on your own yet, you think your parents don’t know anything.”

No comment.

“You know that saying, ‘You can’t teach an old dog a new trick?’ ”

“Uhm, no.”

“Well, never mind. I don’t believe it anyway. It’s never too late to learn something new.”

“So, what about the phone?”

“Well, it will probably be an Android or an iPhone…buttons versus touch screen.”

Thus begun a debate about which was better amongst my kids who have neither, yet know everything there is to know on the subject.

I cut in to conclude, “Then when kids grow up and leave home and have to start doing stuff for themselves, they realize, ‘oh, maybe Mom and Dad did know a little about this or that.’ “

My youngest piped up, “I’ll never be embarrassed of you, Mom.”

“Well…don’t be so sure…”

“I swear to God, I won’t.”

“Thanks, honey.” And noted that my older two were silent.

I remembered one night at dinner not too long ago. “This family is kind of weird sometimes…” my oldest had commented. My younger two had just got up from the table and turned the volume up on the Blues CD we were listening to. We were all grooving, except my oldest.

“Every family has its quirks, I’m sure, honey.”

“No, I don’t think so,” he stated dismissively.

“Oh, c’mon, what do you think goes on behind closed doors in your friends’ houses?”

“Nothing like this – I’m sure they’re all…normal.”

“What is normal, honey?”

“You know…” he paused, searching for a definition. “Just not like this.”

“I see.” I thought back to my own childhood. All I wanted to be was “normal,” too. But what is normal, exactly? I couldn’t put it into words when I was his age, either. All I wanted to do was fit in with everyone else. You know, be myself but not stand out too much…be like other kids but still be myself…

Good thing I learned that normal is just a setting on a washing machine, and that there’s nothing wrong with who you are, even if your kids think you don’t know anything and are embarrassed by you.