Pulling The Wagon

Throughout my life, when things seem to be overwhelming, to me it seems like I'm pulling a wagon.  When things are really bad, it's like I'm pulling a wagon up hill!  During my first marriage, I was the one who would get the kids to grandma's, pick them up after work, then drag everything upstairs to get dinner started.  Once I opened the door, I knew that I would find hubby sitting on the couch drinking Pepsi and eating chips.  To me, that felt like I was the one pulling the wagon.  Sometimes he might "walk along side" but he didn't often pull the wagon, and I was never the one who got to ride *in* the wagon.   It was mostly the same with my second and third husbands as well.

There are times when you look at a job situation and you recognize that you're one of the ones who pull the wagon as well.   Why is it that in life, there are wagon pullers, wagon riders and those who just walk along? 

Am I noticing it more as I get older? 

Or is there something about the youngest generation of workers who make it more obvious?  

At my age, I'm tired of being a wagon puller.  There are times when I just want to walk along with the rest of the "crowd".  It's not often that I feel the need to be the wagon rider, but there are moments when it would be nice to be the one who doesn't have to be carrying the load.  

With any luck, I'll be done "pulling the wagon" in less than three years!! 

Are They Miracles??

It's November and that leads me to think about things ... about how I have this great house that I worked my a$$ off to buy.  I signed the papers in December 2009 and realized today that this is where I've lived for the longest stretch of time in my life ... not counting my growing up years.  And that made me smile!  

I thought back to the time when I was trying to find a house to buy.  It was not an easy thing for me because I didn't know what I wanted to buy, or where.  I perused a lot of listings and would get easily discouraged because things were too over priced, or too large, and finally just kind of gave up, taking a break from the pressures.  And then in the middle of one night, a word came to me:  Impala.  And I remember thinking about that word for a few days, and just assumed that it was God's way of telling me about the car I needed to buy (at the time I was driving an Olds with 160,000 miles).  My realtor called me and said he has a listing to show me.  It was a cute house, on the small side and close to the bus lines, which were my two must-haves.  But something didn't feel quite right.  So the realtor suggested another house around the corner from this one, a foreclosure.  It was empty, and a little bit ugly because of the weird paint color on the inside.  But I liked it.  Making a decision to spend $100k was .... well, I usually tend to sleep on large purchases.  I told my realtor I'd call him and let him know.   I think I waited like 15 mins then called him back, said "make an offer"!!

Here is it, 12 years later and I'm still convinced that this house was meant for me.  So does that fall under the category of miracles?  In my mind, it does.  Because while we tend to think that a miracle is something usually related to health, as in being unexplainably cured of cancer, but maybe a miracle is something that happens and it's our perspective that makes it feel like it's a miracle.  Because in the "real world", how can an low-paid retail worker who's single afford a down payment on a house?  how can she qualify for a mortgage on her salary?  To me, it was a miracle.  Everything fell into place as if it was meant to be.  I saw the house on Oct 30, and signed the papers on December 9th.  

It was a wonderful miracle for me. :)