O Ye of Little Faith

I lied.

One more post.

This one involves a confession, a public apology, and a big thank you.

THE CONFESSION

I do not react very well under stress.  It's one of those things that is a constant challenge, and I have set numerous personal goals on overcoming and conquering this personality flaw.  That being said, I am far from achieving the success I hope for.

Last night was a little ugly.  It's a long story (one I don't have time for all the details right now), but it involves the United State Postal Service and a passport.  Britt's to be exact.  After consultation with close friends who "know," AND with the airline company, it was determined that Britta's passport that we had here at home, should probably be with her in Utah before our big trip tomorrow.  She may not be able to board the plane, since it's considered an international flight, even though she will be stopping here in Denver to meet up with us before heading out to Mexico.

After the airline consultation, I immediately sent Taylor to the post office right before closing time.  He Express-mailed the passport, and came home happy to report that if it didn't get delivered by the next day, we got our money back.  I didn't want the money back, I just wanted the passport delivered.

In all the busy-ness around here, I forgot to call to text Britt to let her know that it was coming.  She has a locked mailbox, and we had declined the necessity of a signature because we didn't know if anyone would be home when it came.  I didn't want any delay.

When I called her last night (after business hours) to see if she had received it, she said that she hadn't, but that she hadn't checked the mail.  She would call and have her roommates go get it.

It wasn't there.

We checked the tracking number online.

It said it had been delivered at 11:32 that day.

Oh my, the stress that ensued.

I was running the swim carpool, and I let it fly while on the phone to Bill.  He, in turn, reacted strongly to the children at home, resulting in a letter to me from Mar about the "pressure" it puts on the kids under, making them work "sadly and slowly," and could I please just handle things a different way.  She even added some suggestions.

THE APOLOGY

I am sorry for my poor reaction to the stressful situation.  I should have handled it better.  Children, please forgive me.

THE BIG THANK YOU

After some early phone calls this morning, and a boatload of prayers (to which I felt faithless), an inspired phone call to the Provo post office led to Marty.  It was before business hours, and Bill called in a supposed futile attempt to contact ANYONE who could find the passport.  Marty answered.  He was the manager over Express mail.  He told Bill he would check into it and call him back.

15 minutes later, Bill's phone rang.  It was Marty.  The envelope had been placed in the wrong mailbox. He knew because he had driven there, found it in the incorrect box, and placed it in the right one.  Bill thanked him profusely.

We called Britt, and in less than 5 minutes, she had her passport in her hands.

 A SIGH OF RELIEF

Things I've learned:  Christmas miracles happen.  Prayers are answered (which I believed anyway, but I had that sinking thought that sometimes they aren't answered in the way or time-frame we desire).  And now all the other little stressors, don't seem so big.