Mystery Machine

In preparation of their move, my parents rented a dumpster this weekend.  We spent most of the day Saturday systematically going through their basement and attic, clearing out any old unwanted stuff.  70 years of living in a house certainly makes a lot of work!  The dumpster was completely full before 9 a.m. on Saturday morning!  After some phone calls and confusion, the trash company finally agreed to bring another dumpster out to us, thank goodness.  It would have been a real mess if we were left to wait until this week to get another dumpster.  Even though they cleaned out probably 80% of their things in the attic and basement, there's still so much stuff to go through.  They'll have to get another dumpster when they actually move, I'm sure.

On Friday, I stopped at their house to get Jacob, and my mom asked me to take her bread maker.  I don't eat bread, let alone make my own, so I declined.  On Saturday morning, the bread maker was sitting on the front porch when I arrived.  Mom asked again if I wanted it and again, I said no.  At some point during the course of the morning, I noticed that the bread maker had made its way back into the house and onto a chair behind the front door.  I really didn't give a whole lot of thought to the displaced machine because frankly, all kinds of stuff was being moved all over the place.  A little later, I looked at it again and said to her, "I don't want this machine.  I'm not going to use it.  I'm going to put it in the "free" pile."  I took it outside and cleared a place in the pile of free stuff we had beside the dumpster.  At that time, my dad, my uncle and my brother-in-law were not home.  My mom, my aunt and I were in the house working.  I was alone when I took the machine outside.  I then went back inside to help some more.  I gathered the next pile of garbage to haul out, and headed back to the dumpster.  As I opened the front gate and started down the porch steps, I gazed to my right and there, in the middle of the yard, probably 10 yards or more away from the "free" pile, was the bread maker.  I actually stopped in my tracks and stared at it.

I dumped the garbage and headed back in the house, not touching the mysterious bread machine.  I have been so emotional lately, and so out of whack, that I actually considered the possibility that God was trying to tell me to keep that stupid bread machine.  Why on earth God would want me to keep a 15 year old automatic bread machine is beyond me, but hey, stranger things have happened, right?  Maybe this was some special machine that just needed to be anywhere but in the garbage.  I even sent a text message to friends asking if anyone wanted to rescue it!  No one bit.  I went back inside and asked my mother and my aunt if either one of them had moved the machine.  No, of course they didn't.  They were inside the whole time.  While it would have been totally plausible that my dad moved it in an effort to salvage it, we had to discount all of the men, because they weren't even home.  If we hadn't been so busy, I would have been way more creeped out by the peculiar gadget, but we were moving and groovin', and the bread machine was quickly all but forgotten.

Later in the afternoon, Jacob came into the house.  He had been playing outside with a friend all day.  "Mom, can we keep the bread machine?"
"Oh my God! Are you the one who has been moving it all day?"
"Yes!  I want to keep it!"
I laughed  - at him for wanting that old machine and for tracking it all day, and at myself for thinking that there was some deeper message trying to come to me through a bread machine! "Yes, fine.  Keep the machine."
"Yay!"  he said, and he quickly scooped up the machine and put it into my trunk before I could change my mind.  Mystery solved!

So, what's the point of this story in a month full of gratitude?  Well, it's multi-purposeful, actually.  For one, I'm thankful for a touch of humor on a very busy, and somewhat emotional, day.  I'm especially grateful for the ability to laugh at myself.  People who can't make fun of themselves can be miserable, and while I certainly have my miserable moments, I think I'm a pretty good sport most of the time.  I'm also grateful for my beautiful boys, for their sweetness and innocence, a sharp contrast to much of what I am witness to many days.  Every time I think of it, I have to smile at the thought of Jacob's excitement over a bread machine, and these days, anything that makes me smile is worthy of gratitude.

This morning I got up early, as usual.  I looked at the bread machine, and thought, "What the hell?  May as well use it."  A honey wheat bread is mixing I type, and I'm the one who is now excited about seeing the happiness on Jacob's face when he wakes up to freshly baked bread.  A piece of fresh warm bread with melted butter and jelly is undoubtedly a special treat on a crisp autumn morning.  Maybe I really was meant to keep the bread machine after all.  At any rate, here's to it!  Bon Appetit!