I read this and felt the need to share ...

The first police officer reaches under the one-ton bale of hay and attempts to lift it off of me. Of course, it doesn’t budge. He grabs his flashlight and shines it under the hay into my face. I blink. He yells over his shoulder to his partner, “He’s alive! He’s alive! Help me move the hay.”

Even working together two officers can’t move it – not a fraction of an inch. A thousand pounds each? Of course they can’t move it.

“Cut the strings,” I whisper. My voice is weak. They can’t hear me.

I am not going to last much longer. If they will just cut the strings, the bale will break apart, and they can drag me out of here.

“Lift, Joe, lift!”

“Just cut the strings,” I mumble, “Please cut the strings.”

“C’mon harder.”

“It’s too heavy! We can’t lift it. We gotta go for help! Hang on Chad, we’ll be right back!”

I am alone again in the growing darkness. Wonderful painless, peaceful, irresistible sleep beckons. I struggle to remain conscious. One. Two. Three. Four… Where are they? How long does it take for police, fire, ambulance, to arrive? Where is the Coast Guard? Where are the Marines? Where is that one old farmer with enough common sense to just cut the strings?

The desert air grows chilly as the sky darkens. I grow weaker. Dizziness overcomes me and I begin to drift off into that gray space somewhere between the living and the dead.

Help finally arrives. One of the police officers bends down so I can see his face. “Hold on! A fire engine is here. There are six men aboard.”

I do the math. Two big, strong cops and six burly firemen must move a ton of dead weight off me. That’s two hundred forty five pounds each. No way can they possibly do that – but somehow, miraculously, they do. A couple of neighbors who have arrived at the scene stand by to catch me. They lower my limp body to the ground where I lie in a broken heap.

Why didn’t they cut the strings? They could have saved a long, tortured hour.

How heavy is hay? A piece of hay is about the weight of a feather. How many pieces of hay does it take to make two thousand pounds? Lots. That package of sixteen bazillion individual pieces of hay wrapped in a gigantic bundle is a crushing weight. But separated, it would have been nothing. I feel bad saying this, because it makes me sound ungrateful – and I am very grateful to the guys who saved my life that night – but there is a point to be made here, isn’t there?

Is it too big?

Is it overwhelming?

Cut the strings – just cut the strings!

Are you buried under crushing burdens? Projects that are too huge? Schedules that are too complicated? Maybe you are trying to do too much at once – trying to do everything instead of doing something.

Cut the strings and cut yourself free. Do one thing at a time – and get it Done. Move “out of the strain of the doing into the peace of the done.”

Pretty cool huh? Makes perfect sense!

I had my quietest day in the shop for a long time. eleven people through the shop and only $10 in sales 😳

That’s ok. Days like these help me appreciate all the other days!

Adoring Husband is renewing his first aid certificate this weekend so I had the afternoon to myself until he came home at 3pm and we watched some footy.

Between games, I got my bed cover off the line and made the bed. It looked so comfy I lay down. 

That was at 4pm.

I woke at 11pm 😳

So here I am at almost 1am, wide awake, feeling a bit peckish and wondering if sleep will come again before the sun rises!

Perhaps some toast and tea will help?

I may even do some of my course work in the silence of the night. I do love these quiet hours when the rest of the world is asleep.

Nite all.