By Ginger Truitt
— It has been nearly three months of fighting the bacteria that was introduced into my body during surgery, but I am pleased to announce that I have finally healed! There are still some tender spots, and the scars are sort of hideous, but it feels good to be healthy again.
Today, I am going swimming for the first time this summer. I was not allowed to submerge my body in water during this ordeal, and I am nearly giddy at the thought of how amazing it will feel. So, as soon as we are finished with the breakfast that is included as part of our hotel stay, the kids and I are hitting the pool.
Another benefit to finally being healthy is that we can once again tag along on hubby’s business trips. He spent weeks in Kathmandu, Tokyo, and Belize — places that I had anticipated going. But if there is anything I learned this summer, it is not to count on my plans. I have adopted the Bible phrase that my grandmother always used, “If the Lord wills.” Or the slightly countrified version, “Good Lawd willin’!”
So, in anticipation of being healthy I stated, “Good Lawd willin’, I will go with hubby on his very next trip.”
And the Lord did will it. I missed Kathmandu, Tokyo and Belize. And there are trips to Brussels and Berlin on his horizon. But the Lord, in his infinite wisdom, willed me to a week in Louisville, Ky.
It’s not that Louisville isn’t a wonderful place, but it’s a whole lot like Indiana. You’d think crossing over that ginormous bridge would make a difference, but it still looks just the same.
It took me longer to pack for the weeklong trip to Kentucky, which is only 2.5 hours from home, than it does to pack for an entire month in Central America. Airlines restrict us to 50 pounds of stuff per person. But road trips are limited only by hubby’s ability to pack the vehicle. Nine times out of ten (or maybe 10 times out of 10), I repack the car so that we can fit in more stuff. Eventually, he will recognize my superior stuff-packing skills and let me do it myself the first time.
I brought along a large number of craft items, toy cars, stuffed animals, four chick flicks that I’ve been trying to convince hubby to watch, an exercise belt that I have not used once in the two years since I bought it, two pairs of shorts that are too small but I hope will fit after I use the exercise belt, a book on child discipline, an extra purse, two pillows, an external hard drive, an assortment of home-school paraphernalia that I have not touched in six years, three arm floaties (two for wearing and a spare in case one of them pops), and every item in the medicine cabinet.
I only left two things at home: the kitchen sink and my makeup.
We were in our hotel room before I realized my oversight. The kids were running around, freaking out because the end of the toilet paper was folded into a fancy origami design. I was digging frantically through suitcases, and hubby was lying on the bed with the remote.
When he finally became aware of my grumbling and groaning he asked, “What’s the matter, honey?”
“Can you believe I forgot my makeup?!”
He had the power to bring me out of my dejected state of despair with one well-stated line of meaningless fluff. He could have cupped my face in his hands, looked deeply into my eyes and lovingly stated, “Please, don’t fret, my darling. Your natural beauty far surpasses that of any woman on this earth, and I am privileged to be the man that drinks in the wonder of your unadorned flawlessness!”
Never taking his eyes from the TV, he said, “I noticed a Walmart and a Sam’s Club right down the street.”
Good Lawd willin’ I will fly to Brussels with 50 pounds of makeup. I’m sure hubby won’t mind giving up his share of the weight limit.
Truitt is an author, speaker and mother of five. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org or visit http://www.gingertruitt.com.