Diary of a Crazed Caucasian Caregiver

OK, faithful blogfollowers, remember the underwear incident? For those of you who weren't here then or just need a refresher, click here.

Well, everything comes back around. Dear, sweet Tom is at it again. Our Fear Factor Challenge this week? Blankets. Nasty blankets. The kind of blankets that once had a lovely graphic design on them that is now indistinguishable for wear. Oh, yeah -- not to mention the layered pattern of those brown-ringed stains you refuse to try and identify for fear of succeeding.

It's not so bad - only two out of the eight blankets he has on his bed are practically rotting where they lay.

No big deal, right?

He's got six more, right?

Wrong.

Last night, my boss brought them out to the dumpster. No more than fifteen minutes later, they were back on the bed. So she put them in a bag, emptied the dumpster, put the blankets on the bottom, and loaded it back up. Problem solved.

This morning, I awake to find them both back on the bed. It's amazing. The boy is just not that limber, but he is dedicated, I'll give him that. I'm tempted to cut them into pieces and drop a chunk in every dumpster along Highway 65 between here and home. Just try and fix THAT, Tom!

Why, Oh, Why, are we all so bad with change? Especially when it's change for the better? Why do we get so attatched to the familiar and the comfortable things in our lives even when they're just gross? Maybe it's the word "change"... maybe we hear "different" as "unknown and new and scary"... "Metamorphosis" works for me until I remember Kafka, who pretty much blew that one out of the metaphor pool. I like "transformation" better, but just try and get Tom to enter into that one. Yet, that kind of transformation, that sort of change, is precisely what most of us say we crave... We pray with the psalmist, "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me," but are we willing to release the blankets that have warmed us and kept us "safe"? To trade them for nakedness before Him? To depend solely on Him to clothe us and provide the trappings of whatever comforts we need? For me, all too often, the answer is "Uhhhmmmm...."

Lord, show me - show us - the filthiness of our rags, the worthlessness of clinging to anything but You. Lord, I believe. Help Thou my unbelief. Help me find my "Yes"es close at hand.

So let it be. Deo Gratias.