Mama's Expensive Mistake

We experienced high drama in our little domestic world today.

It all began this morning when I loaded up the back of the van with donations for Goodwill. I deposited my last armful of bags, walked back into the kitchen, and noticed out of the corner of my eye that I had left the hatch of the van open and up.

I thought to myself, 'I'd better go out there right now and close the hatch just in case I forget and open the garage door later.' But I made a millisecond of a decision weighing the facts that I was tired by then, didn't want to walk the ten feet back to the van, and it was so unlikely I'd actually miss seeing that the hatch was open.

I did not close the hatch.

A couple of hours passed and I told the kids we'd get into the van, drop off the donations, and be home in 20 minutes in time to eat lunch. I got Margaret into her car seat and noticed that John's booster seat wasn't in my van because Chris had used it last. I needed to open the garage door, go to Chris' car parked in the driveway, and retrieve the booster seat. It is a fateful detail because, had the booster seat been in my van, I would have buckled in the children, and walked around the rear of my van (never the front) like I always do, seen the hatch raised, and closed it before opening the garage door to pull out.

Alas, while the children played in the backseat of the van, I clicked the button to open the garage door in order to retrieve that booster seat and the resulting scraping, popping, crunching sound reminded me that my van hatch was open.

And now it was caught on the garage door, being raised, stretched, cracked beyond its limits.

Somehow I thought the garage door would have a safety feature similar to when it is lowering and it senses anything in its path: the door stops instantly. Apparently, this garage door (some or all garage doors?) does not have the same feature when opening up!

All of this happened in a few short seconds. I ran to the rear of the van and tried to pull the hatch closed, discovering that it was held fast and that the garage door was still fighting to raise. Little ol' me is less strong pulling down than a garage door is strong at pulling up!

The glass window on the garage door exploded. The big kids began screaming. This made Margaret start screaming. I looked at John and said, "Go get Daddy as fast as you can!" He was off like a shot with nary a single five-year-old boy question.

It was reported to me later that he kept his cool but had An Unmistakeable Look on his face as he burst into Daddy's home office and said, "Um, excuse me, Daddy, the garage is breaking!" (Yes, he really did say "excuse me.")

In those seconds, I told terrified Mary to run into the house. The glass was continuing to pop and shatter like an iceberg losing shards of itself into the ocean. Chris ran into the kitchen only to find Mary crouched by the refrigerator, hands clutched over her ears, face soaked with tears, and screaming her heart out like I don't think we've ever heard her scream before.

Meanwhile, I had extracted the crying baby and run away from the still flying glass, only then managing to hit the button and halt the garage door.

All of that is how we came to have the above photo of Chris, who donned shoes and leather gloves, collecting up all the shattered (non-safety) glass while the children and I sat safely on the steps, watching him. It took probably five minutes to calm down Mary. We all prayed thanks to our Guardian Angels for keeping all of us safe from flying glass.

I'm happy to report that the van hatch does not seem to have suffered any harm, which is nearly unbelievable to me. The garage will need a new window installed, making this an expensive mistake on my part.

But the whole event reminded me of how I have such a fantastic husband in this regard: Chris was nothing but smiles. He didn't scold me, express anger, shout, bark, or so much as shoot me A Look. He expressed nothing but calmness and gratitude that none of us were hurt, plus a touch of the infamous sense of humor that runs through his side of the family.

As he pointed out that he'd probably win the next twenty disagreements with me, I countered that really I was doing him a service through this Regrettable Incident. Clearly, the purpose of marriage is to sanctify each other with the aim that we each make it to heaven. Such a dramatic, messy, and expensive mistake such as this one gave my husband the opportunity to develop his virtues of charity, patience, kindness, and temperance. Because of me, he even got to practice three spiritual works of mercy: to bear wrongs patiently, to forgive offenses willingly, and to comfort the afflicted.

What is a broken window because of my laziness and forgetfulness when I helped my husband get one step closer to Heaven?

All in a day's work, that's what I say. All in a day's work.