Last week something rather extraordinary happened — or didn’t happen — depending on which way you look at it.
It was Monday evening and we were running a little behind schedule at my house. The kids had been excused from the table to head upstairs and get ready for bed. In addition, they were supposed to sort laundry for allowance money. They seek out chores so they can earn dough for covetous items (like Wii games). Normally, they would be in bed by 8 o’clock and reading. Lights are out by 8:30 (on a good night).
My husband and I were taking it a little slowly downstairs at the dinner table. I was relying on the kids (ages 8 and 10) to get all of their stuff done without supervision. In hindsight, this was an overly ambitious goal. When I came upstairs at 8:15, the kids were lying on our bed watching TV, not ready for bed and the laundry, while sorted, had been hauled into our room for illegal tube-viewing — breaking the no-TV-after-dinner rule.
I hit a roof as this was a blatant exploitation of our upstairs’ absence. I think they must have thought that since we don’t have a periscope to the second floor, it was a free-for-all for the elementary set. Operatically, I sent them to their room to go straight to bed.
I then noticed that the blinds were up in the bathroom. Since it was now dark and privacy was required, I marched down that hallway to the bathroom like I was a boot camp superstar.
March! 2-3-4! March!2-3-4!
So single minded was I — steam still hissing out of my ears — I was having a Terminator (Termomnator?) moment. I was a machine on a mission. I entered the bathroom. My eyes fixed on my destination — the window. En route, I marched passed the vanity. I heard a loud cracking sound. I pivoted 90 degrees so that I now was facing the medicine chest that still gleamed with shiny newness. In the next second, I caught the huge mirrored door that was breaking off it’s hinges with both hands.
Yes people, I friggin’ caught the mirror!
Me — who is famously known for not having quick reflexes — was storming past the mirror in the exact moment that it broke from its hinges. One second earlier or one second later and it would have been a disaster. Yet I was there in the exact moment that I needed to be there in order to avert catastrophe.
I enlisted my daughter to get her father because this door was exceedingly heavy (mirrored on both sides), and I didn’t know how long I could hold it. He raced upstairs and assisted in taking it completely off the chest without further damage.
We were both in shock that our new medicine chest broke… and in such a dangerous way. What if the kids had been brushing their teeth and it fell on them? We started to shudder as we headed down freaky-spooky-scary “What If” Lane. We then made a quick metaphoric U-turn and headed home to the present where our kids were safe and all was well that ended well.
The timing of this event was no-less than amazing to me. If we hadn’t been running late that night, then surely I would not have been in the bathroom at the exact moment it broke. Usually by 8:15, I’m in my room ready to wind-down the day. If the kids hadn’t pushed the boundaries, then I wouldn’t have lost my temper and I wouldn’t have had the impetus to charge to the bathroom in a hot pique. All of these little events, which seemed so out of order in the moment they occurred — actually weren’t. They put me exactly where I needed to be in the exact moment that I needed to be there. The exact moment!
That, my friends, is what I call a miracle.