Thursday, August 27, 2015


It's true.  We do.  Or at least I do.

Yesterday morning began as usual with coffee.  That's the last normal thing that happened. I heard the screechy sound of the spring-loaded attic door opening. Knowing Doug's doctor ordered, "No climbing ladders while on this blood-thinner. . ."  I suspected he was disobeying orders.

"Doug, you're not going up into the attic, are you?" I called from the next room.

Silence.  Apparently we both decided to ignore each other. (He claims he didn't hear me, as if it would have made a difference!)

I called our friend, Randy Morrison, to talk about some upcoming church music.  While on the phone to him I heard a loud thud from overhead.  Then Doug began to groan and moan loudly.  I screamed into phone, "Oh Randy!  I gotta go!" and threw the phone down, forgetting to even hang up.

Standing at the open attic door I began calling up to my injured husband, my heart racing.  "I fell through the ceiling. . .one leg's down."

"Are you bleeding?  Broken bones?  I'll call 911."

"No. . .wait. . .I think I'm OK. . .just give me a minute."

"Honey, don't try to get up.  We need help.  I'm calling Donnie."  Our friend, Donnie Miles, pastors the church within view from our front porch.  He was on the way.

"Where did you break through, Doug?" I asked.

"I'm not sure.  Maybe the laundry room."  I looked.  No leg from the ceiling.

"Maybe I'm over the garage."  I looked.  No leg dangling from garage ceiling either.

Trudy and Donnie Miles

Donnie rushed in and helped Doug down the ladder.  The ladder he was told not to be on. Bruised, both body and ego, but not broken.  We three sat and talked awhile as hearts went from racing to calm.  We found the hole in our guest room closet.  Later we used a broom handle to push the hanging pieces of sheet rock back into place, closing the hole.  A pretty decent temporary fix if I do say so myself.

I didn't know until Donnie asked him why he was up there.  "Looking for our 2012 tax records," Doug said.

"They're in the closet, Doug.  I wish you'd asked me," I sighed.

Later Face Timing our son Kent's family, I told Mary and the kids about Papa's fall.  "It's a good thing I have a sense of humor because it kept me from murdering your father-in-law!"

Sarah, Nana and Caroline

Mary immediately turned to the kids and reminded them, "Tell Nana what we learned about Moses and what the 10 commandments say about murder."

The bright blue-eyed youngest, sweet Sarah, leaned into the camera, softly chastising me,  "Nana, you're not supposed to murder."

"Well, Sarah, can I THINK about it?"

Smiling, she nodded yes.  Mary gasped.

Guess they'll study the New Testament and Jesus' teaching on murder tomorrow.

Meanwhile, I'm just thinking and thinking.  My humor may save his humerus bone, wherever that is.  Oh yeah, it's the funny bone.  

Later I said, "Doug we can learn lessons from anything that happens. I learned men are going to do whatever they want, no matter what a doctor or wife says. I also learned a new use for a broom. What did YOU learn?"

He pondered then added, "Some things just need to be done and you have to be more careful doing them."

Later I spotted a ladder propped outside our bay window.  "So why are you using a ladder outside?  After the attic, surely you know better."

"Well, the bird feeder needs seed and the birds are hungry!" he justified.

I suppose when God said the flowers don't toil and the birds don't worry about food, it's thanks to Him. . .and His helper, Doug.

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