Lost

This is the sad story of one woman's struggles over the course of two millennia days, in which she was without her life-support purse. 

A woman's purse has long been a thing of mystery to men all over the world. "What's in there?" And, "Why does she need such a large vessel to hold all her things?" And, "Can I just put my               in there for her to carry around, since she's carrying it anyway?" These questions have all been posed in one way or another. And the answers are: "Everything she might need." "Because it is women, contrary to the Boy Scout motto, who are always prepared. She needs a large vessel, so that when someone sneezes she can hand them a tissue. Or so she can apply/reapply lipstick when necessary. Or so she can pull out a book to read while she waits for one of her offspring to do whatever it is he is doing." And, "Are you kidding me?!" The Purse also houses her keys and wallet and phone--things she absolutely cannot live without. 

Which is why, I was completely lost on Monday and Tuesday, after leaving my purse at my parents' house, in the midst of shuffling kids to the van, when we picked up Clay on Sunday. I realized the loss on Sunday night, when I was getting ready for bed, because I needed to set the alarm on my phone. That's when I started to feel like the breath was being sucked out of me. I tossed and turned all night, unable to get comfortable without this important appendage. I waited until 7:00 am on Monday to call my mom, unfortunately waking her, (Sorry, Mom!) to request an emergency transfer. She understood the urgency and could, no doubt, hear the life ebbing out of me, so she agreed to get The Purse overnighted to me. 

Meanwhile, my breathing became shallower and shallower, as I faced an outing later that afternoon. Jeff had a meeting and was unable to take over the chauffeur responsibilities.  Fortunately, he was able to provide some band-aids to stop the bleeding, by loaning me his van key and one of his credit cards, so I could get where I needed to go and purchase milk and bread necessary for the sustenance of my family. I was still without my ID and completely cut-off from the world, but there was nothing to be done about that. 

On Monday evening, the panic attacks became stronger, as I envisioned all the CC emergencies that must be cropping up. Through the miracle of modern Science and by a strange set of circumstances, we recently acquired a land line at our house, so I was able to check my voice mail and put my fears at bay.  But, I still didn't know what might be happening on the text front. And, then I was forced to face the lack of alarm once again. 

On Tuesday morning, I borrowed Jeff's van key once more and just enough cash to pay the CC nursery worker, which I stuffed in my mini purse, normally reserved for ridiculously fancy events that my kids are not invited to. Following my normal Tuesday routine, I made a stop at Sonic for fuel for my day, before reaching my final destination. I pressed the button and placed my order before realizing that no purse meant no wallet, and no wallet meant no money. Embarrassed and already starting to feeling the pangs of withdrawal, I was forced to cancel the order and kiss my lifeblood for the day good-bye, though I hesitated for a moment, wondering just how disappointed the babysitter would be to not be paid. 

Once at CC, I quickly realized that no purse meant no keys, and no keys meant I couldn't get into the supply closet where several necessities for the day were stored. Fortunately, the church had a spare key they were willing to loan me. 

When it was time for our general assembly to begin, one of the tutors had not arrived, and no purse meant no phone to check for voice mails, texts or emails about whether she was just running late or whether she was going to be absent. Fortunately, another tutor had heard from her, and knew she was just running late, which made all the difference for how the rest of my CC day went. 

Jeff had to physically come to the church at lunch time so that we could firm up our plan for the afternoon and evening. Because, you know, no purse meant no phone for texting and calling to take care of all the little details we need to take care of throughout a typical Tuesday just to keep our family running somewhat smoothly, and even more so on this Tuesday, which contained some atypical elements. 

But, then,  the Epic Hailstorm of 2013 changed some of the plans, and no purse meant no phone for updating statuses. Fortunately, a sweet friend loaned me her phone. 

I could not get home fast enough. And, yet, I could not speed. 'Cause, you know, no purse meant no ID, so a visit with a police officer was something I was anxious to avoid. 

I realize these are the epitome of first-world problems. I also realize that not so very many years ago, no one had a phone to carry around, and no one seemed the worse for it. But, I must admit, I have never loved FedEx or my mother more than when I saw that package sitting on my porch. Opening it was like sucking in pure oxygen, and it restored a life that had all but fizzled out.