If There’s a Hole In My Pants, I Probably Won’t Notice

But hopefully, I’ll notice the one in someone’s heart

When it comes to something like a rip in my pants, I am probably going to be the last one to be aware. I have a mind full of ADHD, which means it would require the greatest air traffic controller in the world to maintain some order up there.

In case you can’t guess: I am not the greatest air traffic controller in the world.

I’m the girl who went to your elementary school with her shirt inside out. I’m the woman who has worn two entirely different shoes until I was out of range of the possibility of changing them. Yes, I’m pretty much a mess and have been for most of my life.

Those things just don’t compute with me. There are other things on my mind. I spent a lot of time crying in embarrassment about these wardrobe malfunctions as they were pointed out to me throughout my life until I decided I simply wasn’t going to care. I finally reached the point when I realized it was not my priority.

My buddy Sherry McGuinn issued a writer’s prompt last week and included me in it. She asked the question, “What’s the hole in your pants?”

You can probably tell I wouldn’t know there was a hole or if I learned I would forget.

It’s certainly been a crazy year. I got a big head start on the rest of you when I found out I was unemployed in January 2019. Yep, that’s been over a year and a half. You see, at age 59 (60 in just over a week), it has been rough to find a job.

Since every other time in my life finding a job was easy, it was peculiar. Had I become annoying or off-putting in some way? As they always say, look at the common denominator in all the jobs I didn’t get. It had to be me, right?

But as I say, I have a short attention span, I spent a lot of time looking for jobs, but when I wasn’t? Life was quite fun, and I was able to spend time with friends and family and even help others. It wasn’t the devastating experience others thought it would be. I had fun.

Then came the pandemic. I am a strong introvert by nature, so self-isolating was not difficult. When others were going nuts, I was happily reading books and Medium articles and writing.

It’s not that I wasn’t concerned or aware. One of my distant cousins was Patient 0 in Wales. He spent five weeks in the hospital, much of it in a coma, and his heart stopped twice. He’s 48. I have known from the start this disease was real and deadly, and no one knows how he got it. That makes me take this seriously. But he also lived, so there was an element of gratefulness and hope.

I missed my friends during isolation, going downtown to hear live music, and hot air ballooning (my hobby.) I missed traveling. But being easily distracted has its benefits. I was also fine with this new way of life.

Then came George Floyd’s death, so vivid and real on video. I live in my hometown, so many of my classmates from twelve years of school are all around my county. Some of these classmates and friends are black and have children and grandchildren for whom they are afraid. I am afraid for them.

It was hard enough to watch George Floyd’s death, but to see that happen to someone special to me and mine? I can’t. I have been and will be involved.

But there is even a level of lovely to that. I blogged on the rally I attended, and one of my black high school friends, who has had health issues and is not able to attend herself, read it. It was encouraging to her and led to conversations on subjects we had never talked about before. Sometimes we think people know we would do anything to support them, but they simply don’t. We have to speak it and demonstrate it.

Then I got a job, during the time of coronavirus. A job I know will be challenging, but one in which I think I can help people. The company was impressed with my experience and didn’t care about my age.

The world is crazy. I’m not in control. I believe in God and have confidence that there is a bigger picture of which I am unaware. I don’t need to know the big picture. There is enough in the small ones to occupy me.

I’ve learned to live a life where I am looking at the people around me and trying to make their lives better. I will join with groups when I can’t tackle the big stuff alone, knowing together we can do more.

But daily I will find ways to help heal some of the holes in the hearts around me and help meet their needs. Worry is a waste of time. Even if all the bad I can imagine is coming true, worrying is not going to fix it. I need to find the heart and figure out a way to make it heal. Practical steps, one at a time. Even in the midst of all of this, I have found goodness and joy. I will continue to look for it expectantly.

So yes, I now know there is a hole in my pants, but I’m not going to worry about it. Maybe that hole in my pants will take someone’s focus off their problems. Plus a little airflow in North Carolina in July is not a bad thing.

Here is Timothy Key’s take on the prompt.

And Joe Luca’s.

And Denise Shelton’s.

And Britni Pepper’s.

Hey P.G. Barnett, Chris Hedges, Helen Cassidy Page, Caroline de Braganza, Kira Dawn, Gurpreet Dhariwal, Tina L. Smith, Charles Roast, Desiree Driesenaar, Roz Warren, Bebe Nicholson, Tree Langdon ♾️, and Rasheed Hooda — lots of diversity in how we looked at this already. Whether you write or not, I am glad to be in your company! Some of my favorite writers on this list, and a few more of you I need to explore. Good job Sherry! ❤