A Great Big Fire Teaches Me a Lesson About Self-Pity

I was feeling pretty sorry for myself earlier this evening.  My stove is broken.  My husband tried to fix it yesterday without success.  He was going to try to fix it again today, but he kept being called in to see patients at the hospital and had no time.

Then the car broke while he was on his way to answer yet another page at the hospital.  A kind bystander pulled him into the hospital parking lot but then I had to drag our sleeping children out of bed, drive the truck over to the hospital and tow the broken car back home. 

I would rather have oral surgery than tow a car.  And it wasn't fair that we should have two such important belongings break in the same weekend.

When I arrived at the hospital, I opened the truck door and an overwhelming burning smell engulfed me.  That is how I found out about the fire that is currently eating up much of Herriman, Utah, where my sister's family resides. I immediately phoned my sister.  They are fine.

It puts things into perspective.  That broken stove is dang annoying, but its not like we're starving around here.  We still have a microwave, a crockpot, an electric skillet, a rice maker and a toaster oven.  There are plenty of ways we can cook until we get this figured out. Towing the car did feel like torture to me, but it's over now and I have an amazing, ingenious husband who is confident he can fix the car. In the meantime, we still have the truck. 

Not too far away in Herriman, some peoples' homes burned down tonight. Our stove and car troubles pale in comparison. My loved ones are okay, and according to news reports, this fire has not taken any lives.  I am grateful.  I'm going to stop whining about the stove and the car.