I was home alone this weekend.  My wife took our two kids to visit her parents in another state whose first letter begins with an “M” and ends with “ICHIGAN.”  We live in Ohio and, by law, are not permitted to speak of that other state up north.  I digress.  Years have passed since I’ve been at home by myself all weekend so I decided to be productive and continue spring cleaning.  I vacuumed, dusted, mopped floors, and rearranged some rooms.  As I stood with mop in hand, I heard a noise coming from next door.  At first, I thought it was the guy next  door weed-eating; however, upon further examination I discovered he was cutting down a HUGE tree in his yard.  Did I mention it was a massive tree?  There were all kinds of trucks, chainsaws, and high ladders involved.  I’ve never even owned a truck, wielded a chainsaw (which is why I still have all my limbs), or climbed a high ladder.  I’m not wired that way; in fact, if I attempted to do those things it would just be awkward.  There are certain areas which don’t come naturally to me or bring me fulfillment, but are natural to others and brings them satisfaction.

Life is really too short for me to be consumed with being someone I am not.  So, if you need your carpet vacuumed or floors mopped, call me.  If you need a tree taken down, call my neighbor.

My short drive to work almost ended by getting run off the road.  I was minding my own business, listening to some music, and driving with both hands on the wheel (which is rare) when suddenly a Honda SUV edged over into my lane, nearly pushing me off the road.  I quickly slammed on my breaks to hopefully avoid ending up in someone’s front yard or, worse yet, driving through their living room.  As my car slowed down, I fully expected to see the driver of the Honda wave a hand indicating that he or she was sorry for crossing over the white dotted line…nope.  I actually could not believe what I saw next.  The driver of the Honda was literally spraying her hair with an aerosol can of hairspray…and you thought the 80′s were dead.

I thought this lady was pretty negligent, until I was backing out of my own driveway the very next day without looking both ways.  Luckily, the pick up truck coming down our street saw me and stopped.  At least I wasn’t spraying my hair.

Hi, my name is Tom and I am a crazy Ohio driver.

A few weeks ago we headed to North Carolina for a much needed vacation and my wife was so anxious to get away that she suggested we drive halfway the day before we were scheduled to leave.  I had built up some points on my Marriott rewards card, so we were able to stay for free in Beckley, West Virginia, which is the halfway point between North Canton, Ohio and Charlotte, NC.  There were only two hotels to choose from so I carefully examined both hotels to make sure we got the best one.  Each had a pool, which would earn me points for being the best dad in the whole world, but only one of them had a free breakfast.  The choice was obvious – hotel with the pool and free breakfast.  About an hour before we arrived, my wife called the hotel to inquire concerning the pool hours.  I could hear the disappointment in Leah’s voice as she hung up the phone.  The hotel I had chosen did sport a pool, but too bad it was outdoor.  The kids were ticked.  I went from being the best dad in the whole world to being the Clark Griswold of vacation.  The sarcastic side of me blurted out, “Well, we can fill up the bathtub!”  No one laughed and for the next sixty minutes, the kids (and Leah) whined.  I really did feel bad.  In my attempt to do good, everything turned out wrong.  I hate it when that happens.

Postscript: As a gesture of kindness for my pool amenity oversight, the kids got to go to a Super Wal-Mart in West Virginia and pick out a toy.  Leah didn’t get anything.

West Virginia holds a special place in my heart.  I really do love traveling through the state known as “wild and wonderful” every time I make my way back home to visit my family in North Carolina.  The mountains are spectacular, especially during the fall when the leaves are changing, and I’ve rafted West Virginia’s New River multiple times; however, I do have one complaint.  My GPS does not play well with your streets.

Last week our family made the eight hour trek to North Carolina, but my wife had the brilliant idea to stay overnight halfway through the trip, which landed us right in the heart of West Virginia, the city of Beckley.  We arrived at our hotel around eight o’clock in the evening and decided to check out the local Super Wal-Mart because that’s what our family does for fun.  Leah punched the address into the her handy dandy iPhone and away we went through five miles of windy roads.  The iPhone map app did not take us the most direct route, so I told her that we would use my GPS on the way back to the hotel.  After an eye-opening experience at the Beckley Wal-Mart, we headed back to our hotel and the GPS was already taking us another direction.  Next thing I know, we are on a really dark, unpaved road.  I wanted to turn around, but Leah told me to go ahead.  I think we passed the house where Nightmare on Elm Street was filmed.  Lexi was freaking out in the back seat and I believe Ty was attempting to hide under the seat.  I was minutely scared, in a guy sort of way; however, when I saw the “no trespassing” sign, I made an executive decision to turn around.  West Virginians love their guns.

We made it back to the hotel unscathed thanks to the directions from a man with the last name Krueger.  Although it wasn’t fun at the time, we are now laughing about our unexpected detour in the hills of West Virginia.

It reminded me that sometimes we go through experiences which are tough in the moment, but release joy in the end.

Since I was on a blogging fast during most of January-March, there were many things which occurred that I did not get the chance to document through story.  One of the major, life altering events (depending on how you look at it) was the escape of our hamster, Rhino.  Early one Friday morning Leah called out to me for some help.  Usually she just wants me to get her something so I wasn’t in a rush to respond until she said, “The hamster has escaped!”  That got my attention.  Upon entering our living room, the evidence was in favor of the hamster climbing the wall of his (or her) cage and popping off the “man hole” located on the top of the cage.  After the jailbreak, Rhino made a three foot jump off of the table on which the cage sat.  For the next couple days we speculated of the whereabouts of the hamster.  Leah blamed our dog.  I had a hunch that he was holed up in the couch.  Both of us were wrong.  Eight days later I was in the basement doing the laundry, like any properly trained husband, when I heard some rustling behind me.  As I turned around I saw a little hamster head emerging from a cardboard box.  I grabbed the laundry basket (because I don’t handle the hamster) and he gladly jumped in.  The poor thing was exhausted and had obviously sprained his back left leg…probably from the initial jump.  Needless to say, Leah was elated to see her rodent child.  For the next two weeks, we did our best to nurse the hamster back to health and I am happy to say that he has made a full recovery.

The other day I discovered that Rhino had escaped to the basement through an air vent in our kids’ playroom.  He then chewed a hole in the air duct, jumped onto the shelving, and survived eight days on our cold basement floor.  Hang on…I think Survivorman is calling.

“I swear this is the exit,” I thought as I carefully guided the car off of the exit ramp with both of my kids in the backseat.  Both of them were anticipating our soon arrival at the Akron Zoo where we were going to spend a few hours enjoying the snakes, lemurs, and the always amazing komodo dragon!  Ty, my ever observant and non-directionally challenged son, was the first to speak up, “Where are you going, dad?”  I didn’t answer him immediately because I was still attempting to figure that out myself.  I made another turn in, what I thought to be, the right direction.  ”Dad, you were supposed to get off on the Dart Avenue exit,” Ty said.  ”Great!  Why didn’t you tell me before I took this exit,” I thought to myself.  ”You need to get back on the highway and take the next exit,” he said.  Ty is almost ten years old and has a sixth sense when it comes to maps, directions, and recognizing when his dumb dad is traveling the wrong way.  I just need to listen to him more often.

“Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from him.” (Psalm 127:3)

I was on a mission for my wife. She sent me to Wal-Mart with a list to pick up five items. I need lists because I forget stuff. Simple mission, right? Not really. I guess everybody shops early Saturday evening, so by the time I arrived at the checkout area, the lines were ginormous. People were ticked. Because I am awesome and stupid at the same time, I decided to use the self checkout lane where only two people were ahead of me. The guy in front of me had the biggest bag of dog food I’ve ever seen and then there was a group of three ladies checking out in front of him. Of course, the three ladies had some sort of problem so we had to wait for the floor manager to straighten it out so they could continue checking out. They were taking forever. I noticed that the self checkout lane beside me now only had one girl in it and she had one item. I Dale Earnhardted my cart into the next lane and waited patiently for the girl with only a pair of windshield wipers to finish. I felt sorry for all those losers in the line that I abandoned. Whaaaaa? Dog food guy is now checking out. What’s this? He is now finished. Windshield wiper girl is still fumbling with her money. What in the world? People who were behind me in abandoned line are now checking out.

I guess the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. It may look green from where you are standing, but it is guaranteed to have its own set of problems.

When I woke up last Friday, my stomach was feeling sort of…well you know…unstable. I am certain you know what I am talking about…the type of instability that causes you to stay close to a bathroom. Friday was not the best 24 hours of my life. Halfway through the day I realized that I had committed to play in a flag football tournament at our church the following day, but I knew I would suffer tremendous “ribbing” from my teammates and others if I canceled. So I swallowed my pride and a couple pepto-bismol tablets and away I went.

During the first game, our quarterback threw me a pass that was a little too long, but I decided to go for dramatic effect by stretching out my arms and diving to catch it. Big mistake. As soon as my slightly overweight body hit the ground, I felt my breath exit my body followed by some pain on my left side. I tried to take it like a man so I jumped up as if nothing was wrong and called for a substitute; after all, I had run fast and far to catch the pass, which I didn’t catch. We went on to lose that game as well as our second game and my flag football career came to a close.

Upon arriving back at home I took a few Advil, spent some time in a hot shower, and then lathered my body with Icy Hot because I thought I had a pulled muscle; however, when I woke up the next morning in horrendous pain, I knew my diagnosis was wrong. After I finished speaking in two morning services on Sunday, I went to our local emergency care department and found out that I had broken my ribs.

I often create my own moral to the story, but it is your turn. In your opinion, what should be the moral of this story?