Calgon...Take me away!

Do you remember those old commercials with the woman all stressed out at work yelling "Calgon, take me away!"?  I've been having that moment for several days now.  It started with a charity yard sale we held for work.  My dearest friend (who is also my coworker) collected items for this yard sale during the last six months.  By the morning of the big sale, her two car garage was literally filled to capacity.  The first day of the sale we awoke to a heavy downpour and strong winds.  We finally started hauling stuff out of the garage at 12:30 as people swarmed us, buying things out of our hands.  It was total chaos.
 Just as we finally got somewhat organized, Dan arrived to drop of my kiddos who had just gotten out of summer school for the day.  Eli scampered off to kill droids on the Wii, with his buddies in the basement, while Olivia went into "shopping mode".
If you have ever spent a moment with Olivia, you know about this mode.  Olivia is a chronic shopper.  It doesn't matter if its the App Store on her iPad, Walmart, or any given house we happen to be visiting, she is always shopping.  She is obsessed (or in autism speak we would say fixated) on getting more stuff.  This is kind of ironic because we are not a "get more stuff" kind of family.  Now we drop her into a yard sale full of stuff that costs $.25 and she starts pacing back and forth between the tables, talking (literally) to all of the neat stuff she finds.  As if this wasn't disconcerting enough to the strangers who are just trying to shop, suddenly Olivia darted after a little kid who made the mistake of choosing a stuffed animal that Olivia "donated" to the yard sale.  She actually ripped the toy from the poor girls hands and yelled at her.  Mortified, I ran over to intercede and apologize. I watched her like a hawk, but somehow she would get by me and this scenario was repeated several times.  There is simply no reasoning with an autistic child in these situations and no amount of discipline will deter her from her recovery-of-stuffed-animal mission.  This fun time lasted two days and, praise the good Lord in Heaven, the rain returned and the last day of the yard sale was cancelled.  I was exhausted and ready for a day of rest.
The next morning I awoke with a migraine.  This is normal after lifting a lot due to a back condition.  I loaded up on meds, which masked the pain wonderfully but left me dizzy and tired.  We ran errands and tried to have a low key day.  Unfortunately, running errands meant stopping at several stores.  Olivia was in shopping mode as usual and became very angry at me when I reminded her that she could only spend her own money (which she had little of since she spends it the moment she earns it).  Her newest phase when she is mad at me is to list everyone she knows that she loves more than me.  She tells me I am ruining her life and I am causing her to "fall to pieces".  I know that she doesn't understand what she is saying but when you are in pain and are tired its hard to deal with your daughter being a total pain in the neck.  But, by God's grace, we made it through the day without me loosing my cool and got a good night sleep, until....
Now its Sunday at 4am.  I wake to feel a warm sensation pooling beneath my calf.  I sit up and realize that when we locked the four kittens we are fostering for the SPCA out of our bedroom, we apparently miscounted.  When poor little kitty could not get to the cat box, she communicated this fact by peeing on my leg.  I wake Dan and we proceed to strip the bed.  Now I am wide awake and staring at the ceiling fan.  A couple of hours later, the kids wake up and Olivia asks for her iPad, which she looses for bad behavior.  She again tells me how bad a mother I am and I feel my temperature rising.  As the morning goes by, little things keep happening that intensify this flame growing in my chest.  I start thinking about how much I hate autism.  How I feel like a failure as a mom and a wife.  How, no matter what I do, I am constantly feeling like everyone thinks I don't do enough.
I am having a serious pity party and I know it, but I don't care.  The flame grows hotter and I decide that instead of exploding onto my family I'll go for a drive.  I made it to the end of my street and realize I'm way too tired to drive aimlessly and park in an empty parking lot.  I rolled the windows down and just sat and watched the world go by.  I start to pray and the flame starts to subside.  I remember the verse about how life is full of troubles and for some reason that is a huge comfort.  Its okay when life is messy and its okay if I am messy.  I start to focus on the positives of autism, though this is a struggle.  I think about the huge hugs I get from my son and the mother's day card he gave me with words describing me as strong and adventurous (how does a six year old know the word adventurous?).  I feel the breeze blow through the car and I cry.  I cry for the little girl who will never be "normal".  I cry for my marriage that must sustain and flourish with this added stress when so many others fail.
I cry for my husband who has to put up with me.  I cry for me because I have to put up with him.
 Essentially, I took some time to have that pity party I needed then I sucked it up, buttercup.  I emailed Dan everything on my mind and he listened.  He told me to come home so he could hug me and I did.  Eli and Olivia greeted me at the door and told me they had cleaned out Dad's messy car while I was gone.  Eli looked so proud and Olivia wanted to get paid so she could go shopping.  I found this to be rather funny, all things considered.  The rest of the day went on smoothly, with lots of hugs and reading books and just focusing on the positive.
The next day I headed back to work and found out I was going to be alone in the office for a couple of hours.  I sat in the dark and quiet office and dug into the piles of requests for financial assistance that had landed on my desk while I was out working the yard sale.  Page after page of people asking for money.  Story after story full of miserable details of why they couldn't pay their bills.  Some were lies and some were true.  All were exhausting. I split the pile into two piles, one for those who may qualify for assistance and those who did not and I started writing apologetic letters to the latter.  With each letter I see the face of the person reading it and feeling crushed.  It's not easy.  But its my job so I do it and I do it well.
This was five days of my life.  Five days that weren't all that great.  Five days that I had a seriously bad attitude about.  But was that the reality of those five days?  Not really.  The reality was this: we raised over $1200 to help the poor in our community; Olivia learned to let go of her old toys and be kind to people as they bought them;  Eli learned that Mommies and Daddies can have bad days but they still love you and love your hugs; Dan got his car clean (miracle!); people got the financial help they desperately needed, and I learned more about myself, my God, my family, and my capacity to deal with those days that are full of troubles.  I also learned that five bad days are just five bad days.  Each day is a new opportunity to grow and learn and to teach my children of God's sovereignty and love and strength.
The Bible tells us about Mary and Martha going through some really bad days after their brother died.  They did not see the positive side of the situation.  They were sad and angry and depressed.  But those days ended.  Jesus brought their brother back to them to show all of us that he is the Writer of our story.  We may live the events and feel the emotions, but he puts it all together for our good.  So Calgon might take me away but I'd rather have Jesus who brings me back.