Sarah and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very BLESSED DAY!

A few weeks ago, I had a day to rival all days.

Have you ever had a day with so much stuff in it that when you remembered the day later, you remembered it as two days? No? That just happens to me? Ok.

The length of this post will reflect the length of this day...you have been warned.

Anyway...although my day was chock full of poo, like a freshly fed, constipated baby, I felt God's love pervasively...

I'd gone to my parents' house to have Shopping Time with my mommy and bond with everybody else. Shopping time took significantly longer than expected (as it always does) so I spent the night, knowing full well I had to be back in town for work at 9:40am. Forgetting that I am not an early riser, I planned to get dressed at my parents' and drive straight to work. But of course, I woke up an hour later than I had planned and had to stumble into my car half dressed and partially asleep.

I managed, by the grace of God, to make it to my apartment, get dressed (in something from Shopping Time), grab a snack, and even brush my teeth! AND I made it to work on time...early, actually! (Small miracle...I am perpetually late to everything).

At work, I was told over and over again how adorable I looked. An old man, who was on slightly creepy, told me that my dress looked nice on me because I had the perfect figure for it. I choose to ignore his awkward grunt of appreciation and accept the compliment.

And then the bad stuff starts happening...

If you know me at all, you my relationship with shoes, especially tennis shoes. I do not wear them...ever. But TODAY, since I had this black and white with a splash of red motif goin' on, I decided to dig out a pair of black and white converse I'd been forced to buy for a dance team a couple years prior. I've only been at work for a few minutes when I am informed that tennis shoes are not allowed at work.

Boo...I'd finally found a way to make tennis shoes coordinate with a dress. That's ok though! I always carry extra shoes in my car! I go to my car and discover that I have many shoes to choose from...but they're all heels. ...Alright. I can wear heels for an 8 hour shift on my feet. No problem!

Somewhere around hour 3, I lose feeling in my toes.

And around hour 3.5 is where things really get weird...

Right before my lunch, I'm serving customers in the awesome MAGIC fashion in which I have been thoroughly trained. I am helping them find and buy things like IT IS MY JOB (hehe...it is!).

I am moving very quickly because there are two million customers and my lunch is 15 minutes away. I am very much looking forward to said lunch because it includes time with the most amazing boyfriend to ever walk the earth and Del Taco (life doesn't get any better than that).

I am chatting happily with a customer while I bag his things. I am cutting the bag off of a piece of luggage so I can ring it up when...

I cut a piece of my finger off.

It was so anticlimactic. You would think that losing a small piece of your body would take a lot more than it does. But nope...snip snip...lose a chunk of flesh.

It didn't hurt right away. I just saw a piece of myself fall to the floor and saw the void where part of my finger used to be and I immediately closed my hand into a ball. I pretended nothing happened and rang up the few customers that had been waiting ONE HANDED (oh yeah...I'm good).

When a customer looks down to decide whether or not to get three or four pillows, I make the mistake of unclenching my fist and taking a peek at my finger.

It begins to GUSH blood.

I never knew I had that much blood in my tiny little pointer finger.

I must have been trained in emergency first aid as a baby, because I somehow manage to rig a makeshift bandage out of some paper, tissue, and tape. And I smiled the whole time.

Finally, the customers have all been helped. I see my manager and mention casually that I cut my finger. She is appropriately sympathetic and directs me to first aid.

I go upstairs to get a band aid and sufficiently inspect the damage.

I'm not sure why...but nearly all of the managers are sitting together...in the room with the first aid kit. They are kind people. Upon seeing me grasping my finger, they ask what happened. I brush it off and tell them I have a little cut. One manager, being quite motherly, insists on seeing.

Perhaps I should have warned her...

I unwrap my finger and show her. She begins to gag violently. All of the other managers gasp in disgust.

"WHAT HAPPENED!?!?!?" they exclaim in horror.

I recount the tale of the extremely sharp scissors to confused stares and a chorus of "but...HOW?"s.

I give up and find the band aids. Someone also hands me a packet of iodine.

I'm slightly perturbed because Amazing Boyfriend has probably been waiting for 20 minutes downstairs, by now.

After inspecting the damage (OMG I really am missing a piece of my finger) and making another person in the bathroom gag, I quickly bandage myself and quickly go downstairs.

As I'm walking out the building, I trip and fall.

Ow.

I get outside and apologize to Amazing Boyfriend and casually mention that I cut a piece of my finger off. He refuses to take such news casually and demands to see my finger. I do not want AB to throw up on me (and I don't have another band aid) so I deny the request.

But then he takes me to Del Taco. And he puts his jacket on the grass in the sun. And we eat and chat. And my finger is throbbing now...but all is right in the world.

I return to work with throbbing feet and a throbbing finger. But my belly is full and my spirit is lifted.

I work and entertain my coworkers with my butchered finger.

People remark how markedly cheerful I seem for having lost a piece of myself...I thank God for the cheerful spirit.

After work, as I am driving home (all 9.8 fingers on the steering wheel), I am hit by a woman who decides to turn left...from the center lane. Goody.

I am quite shaken up and I immediately call AB to let him know I've been in a car accident. Then I let my parents know. Before I even have time to get out of my car, three people surround it.

Oh goodness...

They are not the occupants of the other car. They are random strangers. Who have stopped to ensure me that I am not at fault and serve as witnesses for me. They all write down their phone numbers. One of them works at a law office and offers to give me free legal advice if things get sticky.

Then they go and talk to the woman in the other car for me! At first she denied fault...until the three witnesses gave her the "For reals?" side-eye. She got out of her car and we exchanged information.

Finally AB arrives and although he is mostly concerned with my well being...I am excited because he got a hair cut! I LOVE a freshly lined head!

I have nearly forgotten all about the state of my poor little car until AB prompts me to take pictures.

The woman apologizes and offers to pay for the damage. She looks so sad that I feel compelled to comfort her and gently rub her back.

As AB follows me back to my apartment, my finger really starts throbbing. Maybe I gripped the steering wheel in fear during the collision? Who knows!

It is now 8pm and I...am...exhausted. My finger hurts. My car is ugly (uglier). My cheerful mood is fading. I want to have some peace and quiet. Can't go to my apartment...lively game night. AB's roommates are watching a very violent and very loud movie on surround sound.

I am now pouting.

So we some snacks and I text a friend, whom we shall call Pretty Angel. Pretty Angel offers to let us hang out in her very quiet apartment.

So we get snack and rent "How to Train Your Dragon" and order a pizza (with bacon!!) and head over there.

Another friend, Chuckles, comes over and we four enjoy ourselves. We laugh and joke and eat. Pretty Angel bakes cupcakes. We eat those too. After the movie, we stay up way past our bedtimes and talk. And talk and talk and talk.

Silently, I reflect on my day. It was a crazy one, but God's loving fingerprints were all over it. How else could I experience joy in the loss of a finger? How else could I be protected and provided for in the middle of a car accident? How else could I find solace and laughter in the middle of the night? How else could I find people like these: angels dressed as my friends?

Snuggled up against AB, feeling the laughter in his belly rumble against my arm, throbbing finger still throbbing, exchanging stories and advice with two loving women of God, I feel happy. I feel calmed. A long day is behind me, and I feel loved.

Sometimes love looks like the band aids to your butchered day.