4 Therefore, my brethren dearly beloved and longed for, my joy and crown, so stand fast in the Lord, my dearly beloved.
2 I beseech Euodias, and beseech Syntyche, that they be of the same mind in the Lord.
3 And I intreat thee also, true yokefellow, help those women which laboured with me in the gospel, with Clement also, and with other my fellowlabourers, whose names are in the book of life.
4 Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, Rejoice.
5 Let your moderation be known unto all men. The Lord is at hand.
6 Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
7 And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
8 Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.
9 Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace shall be with you.
10 But I rejoiced in the Lord greatly, that now at the last your care of me hath flourished again; wherein ye were also careful, but ye lacked opportunity.
11 Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.
12 I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.
13 I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.
14 Notwithstanding ye have well done, that ye did communicate with my affliction.
15 Now ye Philippians know also, that in the beginning of the gospel, when I departed from Macedonia, no church communicated with me as concerning giving and receiving, but ye only.
16 For even in Thessalonica ye sent once and again unto my necessity.
17 Not because I desire a gift: but I desire fruit that may abound to your account.
18 But I have all, and abound: I am full, having received of Epaphroditus the things which were sent from you, an odour of a sweet smell, a sacrifice acceptable, wellpleasing to God.
19 But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.
20 Now unto God and our Father be glory for ever and ever. Amen.
21 Salute every saint in Christ Jesus. The brethren which are with me greet you.
22 All the saints salute you, chiefly they that are of Caesar’s household.
23 The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.
I saw this picture on a Facebook wall last night. I re-posted the picture and then decided it should be the title of today’s post. Those who have followed my journey from the beginning know that I am trying desperately to grow closer to God and be what He set out for me to be. Those who have followed this blog (and that know me well) know that I’ve fallen from that. With things getting so frazzled around here, I’ve let go of what I was pursuing and tried to tend to things on my own. Reduced myself, if you will. Cut away what I considered extras and focused on keeping myself going forward – one step at a time.
This past weekend took the wind out of my sails, even though I really tried to focus on the positive. We realized, over the weekend, that Rendy would no longer hold a charge in the battery. If you turn off Rendy, it would not restart. We required a jump for every little thing we did or where we went. Over and over in my head, I kept thinking, this is so not fair.
On Monday, I had a meltdown. I even spoke with the mother of ex #1. She’s always been so sweet and kind to me. I was desperately in need of something, anything to lift my spirits. She set aside her day and her job for a little over an hour and just chatted with me. Before we hung up, she made me promise to call her, no matter the day or night, should I get to feeling low again. I promised I would.
Tuesday morning, I ran over to Les Schwab, hoping that they would warranty the battery that I bought in July of last year. Almost without question, they did. They took Rendy to the shop, fiddled with it for an hour or so and then brought it back. The guy had me sign something on their electronic pad and I asked, “What am I singing for?” I’ve got a long-standing account with them, so it could have been warrantied or they could have put the new battery on my account. He said, “Oh. Well, we warrantied the battery. No worries, ma’am.”
Thank you, God.
From there, I went back to that awful mechanic that changed out the ignition on Friday. He was supposed to get the new keys programmed for me and bill me for it. Remember, I was supposed to come up with, at least, a hundred of the hundred and seventy-five he was charging me for this fiasco by the 28th of this month. If I didn’t, he was going to come “take” the Rendy as payment.
When I walked in, he asked if I had a ride anywhere, as this would take most the day. He was very brusque and I was terribly sick and tired of dealing with him. I was tired of being forced to deal with this rudeness just because I had nothing available to me on Friday when everything broke. After dealing with his unkind words for a few minutes, I stepped outside.
I looked up the local Buick dealership and called. Speaking with the service department, I asked if it was even possible to program an H2 key for a Rendezvous. They admitted they had no clue. I asked when an attempt could be made and he said, Friday is the earliest. I’m sorry. I asked how much and he replied, “It’s $45 to reprogram a key.” All this time, he was speaking to someone beside him for his answers, so I asked, “Can I speak with the guy you’re speaking to?” He passed me to the other guy and I repeated my question, “Is it even possible to do something like that?” He answered, “I have no clue but I’m willing to try.” I tried again, “Is there any way to get me in today? Please?” He said, “You know, I can have one of the Import guys take a look at it. Come on over.”
While I was on the phone, the owner came out and was anxiously waiting to take his mechanic (in my Rendy) over to wherever he was going. The owner was going to bring the mechanic back to the shop while they left Rendy to be worked on. I waved him off, got in Rendy and drove away. I didn’t say a word. He beeped his horn at me many times but I continued to drive off. Almost immediately, my phone rang. I ignored it and it went to voicemail.
On the way to the dealership I had spoken to, I called my contract client. The same business that had come to the top of Bishop Mountain on Saturday to jump start my battery and asked if they’d pay for my key to be fixed in exchange for some of the money I would get for my contract this month. He agreed and I went to the dealership armed with the knowledge that another big repair shop was going to back me on this new dealings with the dealership I was headed to. It was a nice feeling to walk with my head held high and know that I wouldn’t have to beg.
They got to me right away, being very anxious to assist and move things along. The end of a long story is this: The new keys wouldn’t hold a programming. They aren’t even designed to be programmed. The old keys, however, the ones that I’ve been using for years, were reprogrammed for the new ignition and worked fine. Now, don’t ask me (and don’t ask that mechanic) why the tumblers accept the old key and start up. I’m assuming it has something to do with the chip programming in the key. However, it works and, once again, Rendy is back in good health and on the road.
The $45 was billed to my contract client and I had a visit with them when I delivered the bill. Things are moving smoothly and call them if I need anything.
Sometimes, it just feels good to be loved by someone. Even if it is just because I keep their computers running smoothly.
However, when Jen arrived, I had her listen to the voicemail and tell me what it said. I didn’t care to hear it, didn’t want to know. She listened to it and then said, “You might want to call the mechanic.” She was talking about the mechanic I drove away from. I asked her why and she replied, “He said that he was having a bad feeling about all of this and if you don’t bring all the money to pay your bill by the end of the day, he’s calling the cops and will have you arrested.” I looked at her, incredulous, “Did he really have the nerve to say that?” She nodded and I started going off.
First off, I signed a contract saying I had until the 28th to come up with the first hundred of the bill and, with me doing the key reprogramming on my own, it knocked the bill from $175 to $125. He can kiss my backside if he expects me to do anything before the 28th. If, by some miracle, I come up with money, I’ll be glad to take it to him before the 28th.
Secondly, if he thinks any cop in the nation would arrest someone that hasn’t done anything wrong, he’s higher than a kite. The cop will tell him that it is a civil matter and he can go hire an attorney. And, an attorney would tell him that, since the contract isn’t even due and payable yet, he will have to wait before the attorney can do anything about it.
Basically, he picked the wrong bitch to piss off. I will wait until the very day of the 28th to pay him the hundred and make him wait another two week to get the $25 remaining. I will follow the contract to the letter and that’s it. Not a penny more or earlier. I’m just that rude when someone tries to threaten me or mine. How dare he even think about trying to have me arrested!
Oh, and I’ve already talked to three people involved in the process of fixing my Rendezvous and told them what was going on. One of them was my insurance company, who has the power to influence where other people take their vehicles for repairs. I’m thinking of a Letter to the Editor of our local paper, as well. Threaten to arrest me.
This post is getting long and I’m not done, so please bear with me. Yesterday, when Brendan got off school, we realized that he had gotten in trouble for ripping his nap mat into four pieces. This is the child that is typically very well behaved, especially with strangers/leaders like a teacher or Rainbows instructor. I tried to think of a punishment and realized that a spanking would not work in this instance. It had to be something that really hurt his feelings.
I grounded him to his room until dinner. After dinner, he could play with his brother. In this time, he managed to completely tear apart his entire room. Books off shelves, VHS tapes out of cases. The whole 9 yards. After eating dinner, I told him he could not come out of his room until he cleaned up all of his mess. He went back to his room. At 6:30 p.m., he still hadn’t cleaned up his room and the Nanny hollered for me to come look at what he’d done to his wall.
He took a feather that he had saved from our wanderings and poked a hole in a wall. I’m not sure how but he did. It’s about the size of a quarter. At this point, I was beside myself and couldn’t think of an adequate punishment. I took a moment to calm down (read, I had a cigarette) and came back to his room. I asked the Nanny to get some boxes and she ran to get them. I ordered him to get ready for bed and then get into bed. As he watched from his bed, we packed up every single one of his toys, stuffed animals and VHS movies. We didn’t move the furniture out – I wasn’t that energetic. However, he has no toys left in his room, at this point. I told him, “When you’ve proven that you can respect the things mommy gives you, Santa gives you and others give you, you can have them back.”
Throughout it all, he was stoic and didn’t rightly care. He had a look of amusement on his face. That alone made me want to spank the tar out of him. He was definitely in a mood to push his limits and see how far he got. I can’t back down or he’ll have won and we’ll have more, bigger fights later on.
He was asleep moments later. Before even 7 p.m., if my timing is correct. I told Jen, “Oh, we’re going to have an early morning. He’s out cold already.”
That night, Caiden asked to sleep with Mommy. After a stern talk about waking mommy before 7 a.m., I said he could. He even decided his own punishment if he should dare to wake me before 7 a.m. He said, “I’ll stay in my room until 7:35, if I wake you up early.” I don’t get that logic, but he said it.
When Jen and I headed to bed, I climbed in with Caiden. It was about 11 p.m. and I was exhausted. Mentally and physically exhausted. I told Jen, “Let’s forget the alarms. Just wake up when the boys get up. Who cares if they’re late for school.” Typically, I try to get up at 6:30 a.m. and she at 7 a.m. She texted back, “Sounds good. I’ll get up at 7 and doze on the couch until they wake up.”
My beloved son (read, sarcasm) Caiden woke me at 4:20 in the morning. When I woke up, it was because he was jostling me and poking me, trying to get me to wake up. On the other side of him was Brendan, who, at some point, had climbed in my bed as well. He was trying to wake up me and Brendan.
I was beside myself. I tried to quiet him and get him to go back to sleep with no results. I finally stepped out to clear my head (read, had a smoke) and come back. When I came back, he and Brendan were playing and jumping on my bed. It was 5:10 a.m.! I tried to hush them again and, when it didn’t work, took Caiden back to his bed. I tried really hard to kiss him politely as I reminded him about his promise to not wake me until 7 a.m. and then left.
A few moments later, I heard that music box I fixed playing in his room. I went back, told him to not do that again. Let me sleep! He said, “Can I have my radio?” I said, “Only if you promise to stay in bed to listen to it until 7 a.m.” He said ok and I turned it on and climbed back in my own bed. Brendan nuzzled up to me and we lay there, hoping sleep would come back.
At exactly 7 a.m., Caiden came into my room, telling Brendan to get up and come play with him.
I considered homicide, at that point.
This morning, I was considering all that was going on. I tried to think of how to correct this behavior that was fast appearing and taking over my comfortable existence. It finally dawned on me. With all the work trying to get all the paperwork and whatnot in line, I’d been neglecting the house and home. I’d been letting the Nanny carry most of the load for at least two weeks, if not longer. I haven’t been getting up at 6:30 a.m. (I’ve been up so late and so mentally and physically exhausted) and getting good food made. I haven’t been around at lunchtime when Brendan comes home from school – in fact, he’s been staying at school for lunch more times than not. I have not been there when Caiden gets home from school and I surely haven’t been cooking dinners. We’ve been winging it as I fight this battle that’s draining every bit of me: my umph, my ability to deal with things, my finances and even my will to live.
I haven’t been there. I’ve let all this “Living the 1950s” work that I’ve done slide by the wayside and neglecting what I worked all summer building. So, yes, while Brendan might be trying his limits to see what he can get away with, it really isn’t their fault. I’ve undone everything I’ve been working for.
Another reason this idiotic lawsuit is ruining our lives. It’s taking all my focus and attention from the boys and family (read, Jen) and putting it into fighting against the injustice of ex #2.
However, even if the problem is identified, it can not be resolved. I still have to get all this taken care of. I can’t stick my head in the sand and ignore it. I have to fight back for what is right and proper. I have to fight or I’ll lose this lawsuit that is bullshit to begin with and I can’t do that. If I lose, I’ll be paying him money for 20 or 30 years for no reason except that I didn’t fight. I have to keep going, I’ve got right and truth on my side. But, how to make sure it isn’t all undone (in my home) while I do?