I always start feeling sorry for myself about this time in the summer. I did not get to do half the things that I wanted to, and the summer is gone. I spent too much time doing “whatever” that I don’t even remember, and now I have to catch up all that work that I should have been doing in June. My hair has gotten so long that it just hangs limp and looks dirty, even when it is barely dry from washing, and hangs in my eyes, and the only time I had to get it cut, they were closed. It looks like I might have to start school with a bad haircut, and what will my students think? I haven’t even had a chance to visit with Daddy since Sunday. Now I don’t even have time to schedule sleep because there is too much for me to do before school starts on Monday, so I just stay up and feel sorry for myself.
Let’s add to that a summer cold. A really rotten summer cold with a sore throat. It has been 4-5 years since I have had a cold. I am certain that colds avoid me because I am such a horrid person to be around when I get one. I want to crawl into bed and have someone take care of me. Now I go and get one when taking off work is not even an option. If you can’t take off work and stay in bed, no one can possibly respect the intensity of your illness. We are much too busy at work for me to call in sick, so I just go in and feel even more sorry for myself.
Let’s add another layer to the madness and paint the office. I have never had a problem with paint before, but I did today. I could not breathe. I broke out in a rash. I got high as a kite. I am fairly certain I suffered depression as I came down off the high, and that made me REALLY feel sorry for myself. I haven’t talked to Daddy this week. I need a hair cut. I need sleep. I need 4 more hours to work every day. I need to slam that phone across the room if it rings one more time. Yes, I feel sorry for myself.
Then the phone rang one more time. It was one of my students. Rather it was a young lady who was scheduled to be one of my students beginning Monday. That makes her one of mine, just like my own child. Call her Jane, for the sake of privacy. Jane was calling from Le Bonheur Hospital in Memphis. She had been transferred around the University 3 times before she found my card and called me. Jane won’t be here next week because her 2 year old son is in critical condition. He was in a car accident on 351 last Monday. Jane’s mother and 20 year old brother were killed in that accident, and her son is in critical condition.
The rest of the afternoon I was mad at myself and mad at the world, I guess. How can life be so unfair? Why does this child, who is raising a child, have to suffer this horrific loss just as she is trying to put her life on the right track? What purpose could possibly be served in a 2 year old in ICU . . . critical condition? How does a young woman mourn her mother and brother while she sits by her child praying for his life.
Let’s add to that a summer cold. A really rotten summer cold with a sore throat. It has been 4-5 years since I have had a cold. I am certain that colds avoid me because I am such a horrid person to be around when I get one. I want to crawl into bed and have someone take care of me. Now I go and get one when taking off work is not even an option. If you can’t take off work and stay in bed, no one can possibly respect the intensity of your illness. We are much too busy at work for me to call in sick, so I just go in and feel even more sorry for myself.
Let’s add another layer to the madness and paint the office. I have never had a problem with paint before, but I did today. I could not breathe. I broke out in a rash. I got high as a kite. I am fairly certain I suffered depression as I came down off the high, and that made me REALLY feel sorry for myself. I haven’t talked to Daddy this week. I need a hair cut. I need sleep. I need 4 more hours to work every day. I need to slam that phone across the room if it rings one more time. Yes, I feel sorry for myself.
Then the phone rang one more time. It was one of my students. Rather it was a young lady who was scheduled to be one of my students beginning Monday. That makes her one of mine, just like my own child. Call her Jane, for the sake of privacy. Jane was calling from Le Bonheur Hospital in Memphis. She had been transferred around the University 3 times before she found my card and called me. Jane won’t be here next week because her 2 year old son is in critical condition. He was in a car accident on 351 last Monday. Jane’s mother and 20 year old brother were killed in that accident, and her son is in critical condition.
The rest of the afternoon I was mad at myself and mad at the world, I guess. How can life be so unfair? Why does this child, who is raising a child, have to suffer this horrific loss just as she is trying to put her life on the right track? What purpose could possibly be served in a 2 year old in ICU . . . critical condition? How does a young woman mourn her mother and brother while she sits by her child praying for his life.
I
thank God that my appearance is my worst problem today. Tomorrow I shall rejoice in my rash, baggy eyes, and bad haircut because I am blessed that these are the problems God gave me for today. 
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