Thank you Lord for the bad days

                                      Today, my husband has been gone three months. Yesterday would have been his birthday. It has apparently become a habit to forget my phone. Carrying the cell phone only reminds me of my husband, because it was mostly him who I talked to on the thing. Yesterday I was very much on the sad side, I feared what today would be like. So much so, that I was on the late side leaving home for work. So much so, I forgot my phone, even though I had charged the battery and left it where I would.. should have, seen it. I walked right past it. I didn't even realize I had forgotten it until my first break at work. I didn't miss it. I hate feeling it every time my arm rubbed across where it is holstered on my belt. I hate feeling it, because I know I can't call my husband, not even just to hear his voice. I won't hear him ask me those same questions, hear the same comments on  politics, lumpers, the unique life found at trucks stops. The phone is a reminder, so I forget it, just so I won't be reminded he's gone.

                                    I made it to work on time, I was waiting in the department when the crew came walking through the door and to their machines. At the stroke of six, the first machine was fired up and we began. Getting everything running wasn't that difficult, its hectic and frustrating when a machine doesn't cooperate, but this morning wasn't too terribly bad. After the machines were fired up and the operators busy, I began the rest of my morning routine. I have found that if I can keep to some semblance of  a routine I get more accomplished. There are a few of our crew that are unable to come in at six am so they come at the regular start up time of eight am. By the time they arrived, I pretty well had my day under control. I thought.

                                     Among the many things that make up my job, helping to relieve the operators so that can take a break is the most time consuming. I don't mind doing it, especially if the day is slow as it helps time move along. Depending on what is running, I can watch more than one machine. Usually. When I tried it today, as I was working on one machine, the other decided to show me I wasn't as in co0ntrol as I thought  I was. When I looked up I was not happy. It looked as if half of that machine was tearing up and coming down. Pushing the button that slows it down I began the job of straightening up that mess. I was putting the last end back up when the operator returned. Both operators laughed at me when I told them what had happened.

                                     We had machines that changed from one color to another. Some times that is easy, today it was not. Most a one machine changed but not to the same colors. When I checked everything out, it was good and approved, but it took a while to get it all set in and up and running. It was not going to look good at the end of the shift.

                                      All of the above is just to get to this point. I stayed so busy, fighting machines, checking yarn, signing papers, going on seek and find adventures for materials, so busy, that I didn't have time to dwell on the day or its significance. If I had time to stop, it was merely to take a deep breath, grab a swallow of coffee and jump and run again. It was one of those days when I kept expecting to meet myself somewhere along the way.  I was so busy, that I made it without sinking into the blues. Without stopping and standing, looking off into the distance wondering why how.. how am I going to get by, how am I going to do this or that or what ever else. How, am I going to move past the pain into some form of new normal. Its the same with that four o'clock hour. It was four o'clock when I got the call. It was four o'clock when I found out my husband was gone. Weeks before he passed, we had begun a different way of shutting down the machinery. That new way made the end of the shift more hectic and crazy. Those changes, made weeks before, keep me so distracted I can get past four o'clock without breaking down.

                              I thank the Lord for bad days, because the bad days keep me from sinking into the darkness.  I stay too busy to give in. I can still do my job, I can still take care of my responsibilities. I can be thankful for the bad days, because they teach me how to appreciate the good days.  The storms, the battles, the fears, draw us closer to Him, so He can show us His love. We learn to deal with the bad, so that He can give us the good. Comfort, peace, healing, calm, all gifts given. Precious and pure. I am thankful for the crazy days, because they give me a chance to show others how a loving Savior, keeps us calm and answers our needs. Even long before we need them.