There are just some expressions that I’ve said flippantly in my life, but I never really understood their meaning.
Of course, I knew how and when to use these sayings, but I never considered the value or the weight of the expression. Such is the case with the saying, “the straw that broke the camel’s back.”
I didn’t grow up around camels, nor have I ever loaded one with straw. But right after Lou’s bizarre “emotional kidney” diagnosis, I learned the true meaning of the expression.
We still had about another hour to drive to get to Dave and Judy’s house in Waconia, and our spirits were deflated, and our hearts were so heavy. Our continued lack of useful answers about Lou’s bleeding, plus the strain of imposing on strangers while all of this was going on?? Well… It weighed very heavily on me. But the only thing we could do was keep moving forward.
We had to keep moving…
If we stopped, I was sure we’d never get going again, so there was this dire need to drive onward. So we added some more gas to the tank, plugged in Dave and Judy’s address to the GPS, and pointed the SUV toward Waconia.
The whole drive there, Lou and I were pretty quiet. I didn’t want to bring up the terrible appointment. To this day, Lou has never seen the Secret Life of Bees. I think it’s just a stand he has to make. (For his kidneys.) But as we drove onward, I smelled this amazing light orange scent wafting through the car.
It wasn’t grapefruit — it was definitely orange!
The scent was fresh…and very clean, and I knew I had smelled it somewhere before, but I just couldn’t place it. I liked how it smelled very much; it made me strangely happy inside. I like good smells. And, in a way, I think I just assumed it was God or one of His many angels surrounding me with some comforting aromatherapy during a very upsetting time in my life.
We finally made it to Dave and Judy’s house without incident, and we immediately fell in love with this couple. They greeted us in their driveway with hugs and smiles, and we knew that these were great people. Judy showed me where we would be staying — which turned out to be this amazing finished basement with a private bathroom, bedroom and sitting area. It was honestly more privacy than Lou and I had had in weeks.
I was so thankful, and deeply moved by their generosity.
Dave knew that Lou was struggling with his health, so while I checked out the basement, Dave guided Lou into the kitchen. When we got back upstairs, Judy got Lou sorted with a cold drink and a nice place to relax, while Dave and I went out to the SUV to get our gear for the night.
As I was unloading the suitcases from the back of the truck, that lovely orange scent seemed even stronger, and suddenly, I knew exactly what it was.
At the very start of The Imposition Tour, I purchased this awesome pack of “natural orange” scented, anti-bacterial wipes. It was a 500 pack, and it wasn’t in a tube dispenser; rather, it was in this excellent flat plastic shrink pack with a handy snap-like opening on the front. It fit perfectly in my extra-large purse — which made it easy for me to do a quick wipe down of the bathroom whenever Lou and I were leaving someone’s house. (It also came in handy in a public restroom when that was my only option.)
I loved having that pack with me because it gave me this positive feeling that I could at least leave the place where I imposed neat, tidy and smelling like orange peels. But right then, I was just arriving.
It wasn’t time for that smell…
I think I knew the situation wasn’t going to be good, but when I pulled out my purse from behind my seat, my heart sank to an all-time low.
As I opened the mouth of the bag, I instantly realized that everything inside the bag was sopping wet with anti-bacterial fluid. My lipsticks and make-up were in a small cloth bag, and when I lifted it out of my purse to inspect it, the bag was dripping wet. My beautiful leather wallet was also completely soaked, and when I gave my purse a closer look, the soft, supple leather of my only remaining expensive handbag had a huge stain that had pooled at the bottom of the bag. The stain was starting to creep up the sides, ruining the leather beyond salvage.
I loved that purse.
It survived “The Great Purge” that took place when I was reducing my life for a reason. And suddenly, the one fashionable thing I still owned was totally ruined. And everything inside the bag was a total loss, too. I couldn’t hold off the tears building behind my eyes for much longer. I was so angry. And, I couldn’t even take comfort in the fact that my bag (and everything in it) was technically anti-bacterially clean!
There simply wasn’t a bright side to this situation, and, as I started to calculate the losses in the bag, I just felt destroyed.
I had been using every cell in my body to keep my biggest problems in perspective, and without warning, the stupidest thing was causing me to unravel. The anti-bacterial explosion in my purse was indeed “the straw that broke the camel’s back.” It was the weightless-by-comparison-stressor that brought down the beast inside of me like nothing else.
As soon as Dave was carrying our suitcases into his home, I climbed into the back seat of the SUV, and I sobbed my eyes out. I silently heaved so hard that my lungs hurt. All I could do was allow the waves of sadness, frustration, and defeat to push out of my body.
I can only think of a few times when I’ve cried harder: when my mom died, when my dad died, and when my beloved dog, Max, had to be put to sleep. Those were all terrible times in my life that were filled with great sorrow. But to cry this deeply over a ruined leather handbag seemed ridiculous, even then. I couldn’t help it, though. The tears came out of me without my permission or understanding, and I just had to let them drain.
Looking back with hindsight, crying over something like my ruined purse makes sense to me now. If I fell apart over the really big events of my life, I might lose my edge. For me, there was a tension in my daily grind that felt like a delicately balanced wire strung between my faith and my reality. As long as I kept the tension fully engaged, I could hold myself together.
But giving into my fears about the big things — like the possibility that Lou had
I managed to wipe my tears just as Dave was coming out to help me with the last of our stuff. I had regained my composure enough to loop my arm through my ruined handbag as if the stain was there by design. One thing I’ve realized about myself is that even my manufactured confidence can trump my reality pretty effectively for the benefit of others.
