Say it Now!

Do you ever get the feeling, sometimes, that you don't have a lot of time? I do.

If I only had another week or two to blog, I would definitely cover this topic. Let me tell you a story:

I would like to take you back to January 6, 2003. Ron and I have been living together for about 10 and a half years. We have been running the two businesses (deli and vending) for about a year and a half. It's a tremendous amount of stress: the deli is losing money constantly. The vending business profits go into keeping the deli afloat.

Since it's a State program, we don't get to close the deli. We beg, and beg, and beg. NO! They reply. A tremendous amount of tension in our relationship. He gets up early every day, walks into work by himself, and receives the deliveries. He stocks the deliveries into the vending machines, comes home, and goes to bed. He will wake up around 3-4 PM.

I get up around 8, take care of the housework and cooking; often Ron and I go to the bank to make a deposit or run errands. I go into work and open the deli. Often I spend hours before opening engaged in food prep. We open the deli. It's just the 2 of us. Ron works the cash register.

I prepare all the food and work until the "girls" come in around 9. They take over and I help Ron with the vending. We work a few more hours, and then we go home. Usually, we get to bed around 11 or so every night. Ron often wakes up around 5 for the deliveries.

We're both sleep deprived. I have brain damage (known) and bipolar disorder (unknown). One night I was so weary on "chicken night" I went into the corner and began clucking like a very tired hen. I was exhausted.

So, on this particular night Ron and I are engaged in our usual routine. Ron got angry at me for some reason, I had "failed" him. He yelled at me and I told him "You're asking for too much! I'm only one person and a brain-damaged one at that!" He cursed and left the room, fuming.

Things were polite, yet tense as the deli opened. I did my usual job. He told me to sit down a couple times but I didn't have time; it took constant effort to keep things running smoothly. Just when I had a free minute, all the hot dogs had been sold and the chili bucket is almost empty. Not only that, I had to inventory all the product and keep it stocked. We had a tiny sink, not much bigger than a bathroom sink, in which to do dishes, always plenty of those. I tried to do as much as possible so the girls wouldn't come into a mess.

The girls got there and he asked to speak to me in the hall. Oh, great. I rolled my eyes. At least he didn't want to speak to me in the STOCKROOM. That's where all the yelling happened.

I went out, very tense. "I'm sorry". What? He never apologized, it seemed. "I do ask to much of you, and I'm a total jerk for yelling at you. Can you ever forgive me?" * I was still pretty pissed. I knew what God wanted me to do but I just didn't have it in me. I had 2 choices, blow him off, curse him out; or forgive him.

"Please, sit down at least now, I already asked the girls to make you your sandwich." I sat down as Debbie brought my my turkey and bacon on toast.

He sat down next to me. "Forgive me?" Yes, I replied, and hugged him.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted to kick my butt! Wanna?" He turned around. "Go ahead!" I laughed, and slapped his back. "DON'T DO THAT AGAIN! I always do my best!" He agreed.

Not 12 hours later, I was taken to see him. He was in Intensive Care. He had a massive head injury and chest trauma. He was not expected to live. Scroll back up to the star. Imagine if I had cursed him out!

Instead, as I waited 3 agonizing weeks for him to regain conciousness, I consoled myself with the thought that Ron knew I loved him as he crossed that street. He knew I had forgiven him.

Say it now. You may not get another chance.