Well, I just spent 45 minutes trying to get Helena out of her bedroom. She managed to lock herself in there even though I was less than two feet away folding clothes. The husband happened to call just as I realized our predicament, and, much to his Very Great Frustration, he tried to talk me through the picking of the lock. To say that I am mechanically minded is akin to saying that William Faulkner uses concise sentences to write about normal, well-adjusted families. So, really, really NOT. The husband is the type of person who never looks at instructions because he intuitively knows how to put things together in an efficient manner. At some point in the 45 minute tutorial over the phone, he said in utter frustration, "I mean, haven't you ever THOUGHT about how a doorknob WORKS??" and I had to confess that indeed I had not. Not once. Plus I don't know where any of the tools are. It was not a highlight in our marriage I confess, and I'm still not entirely sure how I got the door opened, though I eventually did. It involved unscrewing the doorknob and taking it off. And then pliers. Thankfully, Helena didn't seem the least bit bothered by the whole thing. She played with her puzzles and unfolded a rather nicely folded fitted sheet that she found in one of her bins.
Remember when Hudson locked me out on our patio?
I was actually thinking about being a shepherd today. Not in the God sense, necessarily, but in the literal sense. I realized about myself that I think I might actually be pretty good at the tending of the sheep--the feeding, the herding, the protecting from wolves, the shearing (though we don't do much of that around her, obviously, and when we do, the husband is in charge). The hard stuff is when the kids get older and stop acting so much like stupid sheep with tiny brains. Sheep never ask the shepherd what a spirit is, as Hudson asked me today (blast you, catechism cd!). Sheep aren't selfish, or emotionally insecure, that I know of. A sheep would never burst into tears when told that his choice didn't win in this round of "eeny meeny miney moe." Sheep don't ask you to read one more chapter or want to learn to sew. Sheep do not inadvertently lock themselves in their bedrooms. But I suppose neither do shepherds get the satisfaction of watching the sheep begin to understand that they are more than just a body, that there will always be another round of "eeny meeny miney moe," that disobeying Ma On the Banks of Plum Creek will lead to nothing good. For the strength to do more than just herd and feed and protect and shear--that is my prayer today. Also, that the doorknob will go back on the door.
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4 comments:
Oh my goodness. What an ordeal!
Here's a question for your husband: WHY on earth should you have thought about how doorknobs work? There are much more important things to think about! :)
I confess that I, too, would not have the foggiest idea about how to rescue a child that was locked in a room, if it involved taking a doorknob off. I do, however, know where the little thingy is that can be used to insert in the hole in the knob and jiggle around until it-poof!-unlocks it somehow. If the thingy didn't work, I'd probably have to call a neighbor. :)
I'm so glad that it all ended well.
Your point about being a shepherd was powerfully written and very thought-provoking. Thank you for sharing that.
Thanks Davene--yes, the "jiggle around with a tiny screwdriver until something clicks" technique had worked on the bathroom knob before. Alas, not on this one.
When I began to read this, I thought, "It's like the time Hudson locked her out on the patio!" And, no, I've never, ever not once ever considered how a doorknob worked, though I seem to remember in the cobwebs of my brain hearing the question asked of me by my husband in frustration about my lack of "working" knowledge.
And I meant to say - and forgot - THANK YOU for your last comment. It brought tears to my eyes.
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