The Best Medicine

Ever since I was a little girl, I've hated to see my mom upset about anything. She laughs and tells me now, "You were always my little encourager. One time I was having a dinner party and trying to make a rhubarb pie. The whole thing fell apart not too long before the guests were to arrive. I was near tears, and you came to me and said, 'Don't cry, Mom. Just mix it all up, put ice cream on it, and call it "Rhubarb Mess!'" Another time she was making a dress and cut the front down too low. I guess (so the story goes) that I told her to put a small piece of material in the front (you know, with all my sewing expertise at age 10...or actually, EVER) and that I had seen Princess Diana wear a dress very similar.

It seems Lucy is much the same way. She goes out of her way at all times to tell me things such as, "Mom! You're the best apple bread maker in the whole world!" or "Mom, I just love those earrings you have on!" or, right after I came home from having my hair cut and highlighted, "Mom, your hair looks SO great! Much better than when you left the house!"

It's wonderful to have an encourager in your life. These last couple of months have been somewhat of a roller coaster at our house, as you could probably guess. Sometimes Darren and I say to each other, "It's OK. We know we're not in heaven yet."

When I had to turn in my work laptop, we knew it was inevitable that we would now need to buy one. Our current one, though nice, was quite a few years old and very slow. If I was going to work as a freelancer, I had to have an updated, reliable one. Darren spent weeks doing his research and trying to get us the best laptop for the best price. We bought a beautiful one, a Mack Daddy of a laptop, only to have it succumb to the blue screen of death at least four times in its first week of life.

Then there's our car. Oh, cars. You are so much more trouble than you are worth. I know that the key word here is perspective. Only 2% of the world's population even owns one car. We own two. And fortunately, with both of us working at home, we can probably get along with one. But seeing as we do have two, it would be nice if they both worked. Of course, my favorite car, my silver Maxima that I've had since I was pregnant with Lucy, died a couple weeks ago.

I have a question to throw out into the cosmos: Why does any sort of car repair, no matter what it is, start at $1,700? Just once, I'd love for the car repair guy to say, "Yeah, that'll cost you fifty bucks." I know, I'm not holding my breath for that.

This past Saturday, Lucy came into our room. She started talking about the kids' party at church we were going to later that day. I said to Darren, "Oh yeah, I forgot--I need to be there an hour early to set up. Can you drop me off?" Lucy asked, "Why can't you take the silver car, and then Daddy will take us later in the black car?"

I sighed. "Because our silver car is broken. It doesn't work right now. So, we all need to share the black car and ride together."

She must have sensed my discouragement because she looked up at me with her sweet, big, brown eyes. "That's OK, Mom. We can keep the silver car as a decoration."

I laughed so hard I almost cried. She wasn't sure what had made me laugh so much, but she was happy she was the cause of it. She took my face in her hands and said, "The more you think about it? The funnier it is!"

The moral of this tale is that humor can be found in many unexpected places and never to take for granted a little encourager in your life.

And Lucy is right. It really is funnier the more I think about it. We don't have a dead car--we now have a two thousand-pound paperweight, sponsored by Nissan, decorating our driveway.