I trashed the weekend

Despite the beautiful weather, I managed to ruin the weekend. And, unfortunately, I’m not being melodramatic.

We had a peaceful breakfast at home Saturday, and I headed out to do some errands in hopes of getting outside and taking the girls to a playground later in the day. Things were going along just fine. My mom called me mid-morning and offered her babysitting services for Saturday evening. I, of course, jumped at the opportunity to steal a date night with the Spouse. She mentioned when she called that she’d really appreciate it if we could use our SUV to swing by her house and haul a couple of things off to the dump for her. I took a quick mental note of what she said was to go–an old rug and some aluminum cans–and hurriedly finished my grocery store run.

Fast forward a few hours… I got back home, unpacked the groceries, and we loaded the girls and ourselves into the car and headed to Mom’s place to pick up the dump-bound items. She wasn’t home, but I had a garage door opener. So, I ran in, grabbed the rug that was rolled up on the stairs, picked up a bag of aluminum cans in the garage, and hopped back into the car.

The local dump is a busy place on most Saturdays. So, on an unusually warm and sunny day in January (after weeks of blustery weather), it’s crazy busy. When our turn to unload our trash arrived, the Spouse jumped out and threw the rug into the dumpster, making sure to throw it on the very bottom so it wouldn’t get in the way of the compactor. We then wheeled around to the recyclable section and tossed the aluminum cans in their assigned receptacle. Easy enough.

And, off to lunch we went feeling so responsible.

My mom called while we were eating and wanted to know if we had picked her stuff up yet. I proudly told her that we had already been by and taken care of that. She was so pleased…

Until…

Twenty minutes later when she arrived back home to discover that strangely, her brand new rug valued at $400 (which she had purchased with her Christmas money and spent a good bit of time bartering for) was missing. Simultaneously, she noticed that her old, ragged $25 rug was still in its place in her kitchen area.

(Spoiler alert: this does not end well)

So, my cell phone rings. And, though I had a very hard time even understanding what the panic-stricken, justifiably irate version of my mother was saying, I picked up on enough to know that we needed to get our helpful selves back to the dump very, very soon.

Since an hour had lapsed between the time we tossed the new rug into the dumpster and when we returned to the site of the crime, one can imagine that the odds of a successful recovery were very slim. Much more drama ensued involving the dump attendant(s), my mom, and me. (The Spouse rightly remained merely an accomplice). Ultimately, the sympathetic, but pragmatic attendants convinced Mom that recovery of the rug would be impossible until Monday when the dumpster was unloaded at another main facility, by which time they felt certain she would no longer desire it.

So, as of right now, the $400 rug sits either in the very bottom of Dumpster #1 while hundreds of pounds of (potentially wet) trash crushes it, or it is en route to our local Solid Waste Management Facility where it will soon be readied for its burial in a landfill.

I have nothing to say for myself.

It was an innocent mistake. (I had no idea she had recently bought a new rug).  Was it careless? Yes. Was it costly? Yes. Will my mom ever forgive me? Possibly some day.

If ever I needed something to remind me of my potential to err in a major way, I got it this weekend. I messed up. I’m humbled. And, I’m truly sorry.  But, this story and my frustration with myself isn’t really about the rug.  Things like that can be replaced.  It’s more about the fact that I’m responsible for adding another disappointment to a long list of discouraging things that have happened to my mom in recent years.  And, that is really disheartening.  

Coincidentally (or maybe not), the Spouse was rummaging through some old music and found one of my long-since forgotten, but once beloved CDs out in our garage yesterday.  On that CD is one of my all-time favorite songs.  It’s title?  Grace. (click to listen)

Here’s the chorus:

I ask you how many times will you pick me up
When I keep on letting you down?
Each time I will fall short of Your glory
How far will forgiveness abound?
And, You answer, “My child, I love you
And as long as you’re seeking my face,
You’ll walk in the power
Of my daily sufficient grace.”
(by Laura Story)

Thank you, God, that you can restore what we have thrown away… that you can pick us up when we let you (and the people around us) down.  Thank you for the daily… sufficient… grace.  Oh, how I need it.