When Love is Crazy: A Story About A Couple Of Chickens And A Cup Of Coffee

I dropped a 22 pound frozen turkey onto my left foot Saturday night. 

2016 has firmly introduced itself in my house, y'all. 

My husband Matt's birthday was Sunday (Happy Birthday, Boo!) and his all time favorite meal is turkey. With creamed potatoes. And his Mom's awesome sweet potato casserole. With spicy corn and a pineapple upside down cake. 

So, BECAUSE BIRTHDAYS y'all, I found myself wrestling through my chest freezer to unbury one of these prized poultry products. And, since it's practically unSouthern to NOT have multiple frozen Butterball turkeys in your freezer, I found myself having to play my own icy version of Tetris as I resituated my freezer after I chose the bird whose valiant sacrifice we would pay homage to on my man's very special day. 

It was all going well until I got to my last turkey to reshelf. It was the biggest one in my freezer, so I should've known it would give me the most trouble. As I hoisted it up and seemingly into my freezer, the nylon looped strap gave way and it came crashing down unceremoniously onto my bare.left.foot. 

THERE WERE SO MANY STARS SEEN IN MY GARAGE I THOUGHT IT WAS INDEPENDENCE DAY. 

The shock blinded me from any immediate pain (I love you, adrenaline!) and I somehow managed to hop/limp/shuffle ungraciously into my living room where I collapsed into a heap and began to whimper and then continued to alternate from quietly moaning to silently sobbing until sometime Sunday afternoon. 

My Bible Class was covered by my back up, morning worship was skipped and I stayed virtually immobile for what felt like 63 straight hours. (It was only about 18 but it felt SO MUCH LONGER.) Matt, AKA The Most Amazing Husband/Dad That Ever Lived took all three of the kiddos to church BY HIMSELF ON HIS BIRTHDAY. While there, my precocious Kindergartener Luke managed to tell anyone that would listen (Sorry, visitors!) about how his Momma "dropped that big ol' turkey on her foot". Mercy. 

It wasn't long after services were over that the calls and texts started flying in. It's a story that I have to laugh while telling because WHO DROPS A FROZEN TURKEY ON THEIR FOOT?? I have the best friends, and there was no shortage of people that offered to come by and fold my laundry or mop my floors or buy me groceries or wash my car or give the dog a haircut. Just hearing the offers and seeing the willingness of my friends and church family to help out was enough to bless me immensely. I declined the offers of help, because really and truly, I'm fine. I've got mobility in all my joints and I can stand on it now for a while without it hurting. (But then the throbbing starts again and I've got to ice it. Hooray for homeschool from the couch! #silverlining) It's turning a nice purple color and I'm sure that in a week or so it'll all be history. I hope. ::wink::

But I had some friends who were just crazy enough, who loved me from that "there-are-no-boundaries-in-our-friendship" kinda place that didn't take no for an answer. This morning around 11:00, my doorbell rang and the sweetest, most gracious, most loving couple from our church was  standing on my front porch with WalMart bags in their hands. Bro. Don hugged my neck then bustled his way into my kitchen with a trailing call of "You're hurt! We brought you chickens!" as his wife Mrs. Cora laughed and explained that when they'd heard about my predicament they decided to just come on over and bring us sustenance. THEY ARE SAINTS,Y'ALL. If they'd called and asked if there was anything they could do, I'd have told them no. BUT BECAUSE THEY ARE CRAZY, they bought the chickens, showed up, ignored my unwashed hair and rowdy kids and messy house and dropped off supper. Hallelujah. 

My friend/neighbor (bonus!) Cindy called me this afternoon to inform me that she's coming over to mop my kitchen tomorrow. I told her that it was completely unnecessary. She ignored me. I countered with asking her to simply  help me move my breakfast nook chairs off the tile so I could mop and she ignored me AGAIN. She proceeded to tell me in no uncertain terms that she WOULD be coming by tomorrow and that she WOULD be mopping. God bless her servant heart because my floors are disgusting and I could weep at the idea of having them dog hair and peanut butter and chocolate milk free. As if that weren't enough, she upped her ante by walking over not twenty minutes later with a freshly ground, freshly brewed cup of Starbucks RESERVE BLEND just.for.me. Because coffee is our lifeblood. 

And I think that's how the church should be today because I think that's how it was back then:  With big hearts and blind eyes and willing servants and eager hands. I can't wait to pass their crazy love onto someone else soon. It's blessed me more than they know and taught me that sometimes, it's OK to ignore the 'No thank you's' so you can become the 'God bless you's."

Who knew I'd be itching to buy rotisserie chickens for someone?? 

BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT MARTHA WOULD HAVE DONE, bless it. 

Now go and find someone you can spread that crazy kind of love to, y'all!

As for me. I'm going to ice my foot. Again. ::wink:: 

Thanks for stopping by, y'all!