handy-wipes

When a loved one hurts and we can’t fix it, it’s frustrating. In our last bible study, we spent some time talking about that frustration. About a parent’s struggle with their inability to help their grown children through their problems. The grown up problems we face are far beyond the skinned knees made better by Scooby-Do band-aids and kisses. I left that study and began thinking about the first time I was sick and far away from home.

I spent my first year out of high school as a ‘real’ college student at Mizzou. I lived in the dorm and got very sick. My mom hated that I was so far away. Honestly for that week I really did too. After a couple days of misery, I got a call from the front desk to let me know I had a delivery waiting. A friend and I made our way down to find “Get Well Soon” balloons tied to a large white box with a package of handy-wipes taped to the top. Handy-wipes? Who? Why? The questions came to my mind as well as others in view of the package.

It was delivered by a local grocery store and they had placed a note outside the card. Their post-it stated, “We don’t have washcloths in the store, this is the closest we could find. Hope it will do.” The card inside identified the culprit and answered the questions. It was from my Mom and read “..I just wish I could be there to at least give you a cold washcloth for your forehead.” The big white box was filled with chocolate cupcakes.

Chocolate cupcakes certainly wouldn’t make me better, but it was blessed assurance I would not be alone in a college dorm. A cold washcloth couldn’t fix it either, but it might have been comforting. Mom was frustrated she couldn’t make me better and frustrated even more that her attempt to comfort missed the mark. Handy-wipes, however, were funny. We laughed and to this day they still make me smile and giggle a bit.

That’s often the case, isn’t it? Our attempts to change the circumstances of a loved one fail. Our efforts to comfort seem as though they are never enough and often don‘t quite hit the target we intend. Our actions do count, though, and sometimes God blesses our aim in a direction only he knows is needed. Handy-wipes weren’t suited for the forehead, but they have been good for my heart.

Mr. 1inamillion resumes chemo in three days and I am helpless. There is little I can do to calm his fears and there will be less I can do to comfort him once he’s sick. I will try, though. Sunday I will bake; an attempt to greet new and old friends, to kiss up to the nurses. Tomorrow I will paint, in hopes of brightening the space in which he will spend so much time resting and recovering. Thing 1 and 2 will no doubt want to help.

Lord, please bless our aim. And maybe send handy-wipes.