House Number 143

It's been a good day. At least it ended good, with a wonderful breakthrough-type service in church for which I'm extremely thankful.

However, it was quite the afternoon. We were out of town and got home at 4:00 p.m. Feeling particularly ambitious and eager to earn a little money, Hannah started a flyer route this last week, delivering Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. Along with teaching children a good work ethic, Dave and I feel this will be a good learning tool on the proper management of money, since we portray excellent money-managing skills ourselves. We want her to be better than we are (because we're still learning, unfortunately). As well, the exercise is good for my homeschooled, needing-more-physical-activity-children, and PARTICULARLY good for moi.

Anyway, because we were out of town, the office told us they would arrange for a sub to deliver our papers on Saturday. We were not impressed, therefore, to arrive home at 4:00 to find the papers undelivered.

Wanting to make it to evening service, Hannah and I finished that route in less time than you can imagine. My girl ran her legs off.

On one crescent, she did one side of the street and I did the other.

I will ever be thankful to the Lord that I came to House Number 143, and NOT my daughter. At House Number 143, the inside door was open with only the screen door shut.......and on the other side of that screen door there happened to be a HUGE BLACK DOG.

Only.A.Tiny.Little.Screen.Door.

This HUGE BLACK DOG - and I am seriously NOT doing Robert Munsch exaggerations - had it's legs up on the door, and was barking and baring his BIG HUGE BLACK TEETH (okay, may his teeth weren't black....). I rushed up the steps, ever mindful of the HUGE BLACK DOG, grabbed my paper with slightly shaky hands, went to put it in the mailbox, when that HUGE BLACK DOG managed to open up the screen door.

I can honestly say that my relatives at the other side of the city likely heard my scream.

I screamed so stinkin' loud that my own eardrums popped. My heart raced (seriously). And because the Lord gave me a miracle, that HUGE BLACK DOG must have shocked himself, because he backed off when the door opened instead of lunging at me as I had anticipated.

And so I am alive to tell about it and my husband is not planning my funeral.

I finally had the presence of mind to check on my daughter across the street. She was just finishing and sauntered casually across to me, cool as a cucumber.

"That was quite some scream there, mom," the twerp said.

"Do you for some reason find it funny?" I asked, with a hint of a smile beginning to come.

"Yeah. I guess I kinda do," was her honest reply.

What can I say? I'm sure I would have laughed hysterically - after the fact - if it had happened to my husband or any one of my siblings.

But I would not have found it amusing if it had happened to one of my children.

Still, she's a little twerp.