Have you ever read the book series titled A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket? They’re children’s novels, and a bit sad, but I loved reading them growing up. Recently, I had the series title in my mind because I felt like a series of unfortunate events unfolded in my life.
It started with my brother having a cancer scare. My brother. Who is only a few years older than me. Cancer. I felt like those words just couldn’t go together. After some testing and a medical procedure, all is well, and he doesn’t have cancer.
A few weeks ago, my mom and I planned an little date together. We ended up at the Monroeville Mall. We were walking around Macy’s when my mom said she was super hungry, so we left around 4:30 PM to grab dinner together. Just a few hours later, there was a shooting that injured three people in that very store.
Lola also gave Jimmy and I quite the scare recently. I roasted a whole chicken for dinner one night, and we had packed the leftover meat from the chicken in Tupperware and placed it in our refrigerator. We left the roasting pan with the chicken carcass on our counter and left home to run a few errands. When we came back, Lola wasn’t barking as she usually does. We found her hiding in our closet looking a good ten pounds heavier than normal (which, when I think of it now, was pretty funny). She ate the whole chicken carcass off of our counter. All of the bones. Everything.
It was late at night, and our veterinarian’s office wasn’t open. I called an emergency vet and was informed that since Lola is a pretty big dog (about 68 pounds), she would be able to digest the bones she ate and was told to just keep an eye on her. I can’t even explain the range of emotions I went through in that ten minute time span of finding Lola/figuring out what she did/calling the vet. Whew. That incident made me feel like such a bad fur mom.
I also cut my thumb pretty badly in February. Jimmy and I were going through a few boxes of kitchen items to donate or keep, and I reached into a box and happened to slice my thumb on a food processor blade. I would post a picture… but I don’t think anyone really wants to see it. I’m so glad Jimmy was home because I took one look at my thumb and almost passed out. Thankfully, I didn’t need stitches (though a nurse at our church told me I really should have got them… oops). A few other adverse things have happened lately, including water flooding mine and Jimmy’s basement.
But you know what? I see all of those instances as a series of almost unfortunate events. My brother doesn’t have cancer. The shooting at the mall wasn’t fatal. Lola didn’t die… she just got a super tasty meal that almost gave me a heart attack. I didn’t need stitches. Nothing in our basement was damaged.
I see those unfortunate events as God looking out for me, my family, and others. I see situations that could have been much worse. I’m thankful for the way things are, and I’m thankful that scary/sad/hard things make me see how amazing God is in the midst of this crazy life.