Wednesday, December 14, 2011

But my van made me do it!

If you're here today for some sort of deep inspiration, or for well-thought-out insights into the joys of motherhood...well...sorry.  :)

Not gonna happen, people.  Not today.

Because this is one of those keeping-it-real stories that isn't fun while it's happening, but makes for a decent blogpost.  (One of the best reasons for having a blog.  Redemption of negative life events.)

And, it's about my big van. 

My big, 15-passenger-van that isn't so difficult to drive, but is a real pain in the you-know-what to park.

So on with the story.

Sunday mornings, my three oldest kids have Catechism class before Mass.  So Kevin takes them at 9:15 (in one of our two normal-sized cars that, you know, normal people drive), and I come at 10:30 with the four younger the big van that people assume I must need a special license for.

The parking lot at our parish is not as big as the ones at Target or Costco.  And it's always super crowded. 

And this past Sunday, I could not park my van.

Nope, couldn't do it.  I attempted three.different.parking spaces., but had to give up on all of them for lack of proper space (and parking ability).

And all of this while people (yes, multiple people) were honking at me.  Yes, honking!  Meanwhile I was working up a sweat, becoming more and more anxious, and also becoming more and more convinced that I was just going to have to give up and go home.  I was imagining myself going to Confession the following week and saying "Bless me Father for I have sinned", followed by the sad and embarrassing confession that I missed Mass on account of my big, dumb car.

Thankfully though, just as I was about to give up, Kevin (and the kids) came out of the building.  And that's when I jumped OUT of my big, dumb car and said "I CAN'T PARK THIS THING!  I'M DONE!  PEOPLE ARE HONKING AT ME!"  So my ever-calm husband took over, drove around back, and did indeed find a space.  And we made it into the church right as Mass was beginning, so I suppose it all turned out okay in the end.

Except of course that I was still sweaty, completely distracted, and beyond furious that I couldn't park my car.  Not sure who I was furious at (myself?  the assorted honkers?  the engineer who obviously didn't have a bunch of kids that designed the parking lot?  all of the above?)  but I was mad just the same.  Certainly not the peaceful frame of mind you want when you're going to wrangle two noisy babies worship God and receive Jesus in the Sacrament, but alas, it is what it is.

A really spiritual blogger would now probably write something really lovely about how we can all come-as-we-are to Jesus in our frustrations and in our need (which of course we can), but I'm not going to. 

Because this story was really just all about me being annoyed and stressed out.

Which happens sometimes.

And now you have proof that I'm not good at parking my van, my anxiety level could be graphed against how many elderly people are honking at me at any given time, and I almost committed a mortal sin on Sunday.

Maybe it's time the Church appointed someone as the patron saint of parking large vehicles!


Blog Template by