I thought I was amazing until I drove past the little old lady down the street who was pressure washing her driveway a few minutes ago. It goes something like this:
My first 20 years of adult life excluded a list of skills and activities that I have now been learning and tackling with great enthusiasm. Such as barbequing. I was not the cooker of all things meat. Nor was I the pressure washer or the car fixer or the long haul driver. Etc.
I've been impressing myself at every turn lately. I pressure washed everything that could take it. I barbequed the most amazing dinner the other night. I've taken the car to the shop and had things fixed. I have a cupboard full of tools in the garage that I actually use. I have handled extremely stressful, somewhat scarey allergic reactions repeatedly with two of my people. I've been putting in the front yard and helping the pathetic grass get a grip. I threw a gradution party with 40 or 50 people, complete with dinner. I planned and executed a 900 mile road trip with all the kids. I took three kids camping. And spent an hour in the city planning department discussing lot division rules from the 1970s.
All the while cooking and cleaning and laundry and studying and breaking up fights and getting people out of bed and putting people back in bed and making sure the dog has toys and paying the bills and trying to stay in shape and keeping people out of trouble and making sure they are properly educated and entertained because after all it IS summer.
Never mind the fact that my mom made the whole camping trip possible and a friend cleaned lettuce for me for 3 hours for the graduation party and Collin drove almost the whole way to Montana and I have access to doctors for direction with the allergies and that I didn't even know the answer to the mechanic's question about if my car was 4wd or 2wd and that even the old lady down the street can do the pressure washing!
And just to bring it full circle for my theologically astute and thorough friends, the God factor is huge. Believe me, I get that. God is the reason I'm NOT doing a lot of things. Like not not getting out of bed. And not refusing to deal with the 400th stupid problem that someone else created that I have to be the one to clean up. God is the reason I'm not walking out when I feel done. And that I'm not daydreaming ways to escape my responsibilities. He is the reason I'm not losing hope even though some days it seems like it would be quite satisfying to go there for a while.
So, in the end it's not really me that is amazing. But if you don't mind, a part of me is going to keep telling the other part of me that I am.