She popped by a while ago, waking me from nap No. 6 this day. Amos is quite dear to her, even though he becomes afraid of her in her absence (as he does with all those he's met) and she has to work to make friends with him again each time she visits. She admired my fire, commented on how lovely the rooms look now that the curtains are a proper length, and pronounced me a master painter for the work in the parlor. And then she helped me choose the new paint color for the living room.
That alone was such mercy as my heart is truly overwhelmed.
A second painter told me that the primer for the basement ceiling is unnecessary and would only make for too much paint on all the things running through the eves. I did not know that you could return primer, but he assured me Lowe's would take it back. The price difference between him and the first painter is quite close if you factor in that $109 return. However, I now think I should wait to paint the ceiling until I know someone is coming to live there.
When I made the return, I chose some paint chips for the living room and was hoping someone would come over to help me with the decision. Decisions still overwhelm me, though I am getting better at navigating them.
I am not one of those people who vacillates forever on choosing colors and such. I can be quite decisive, but I do prefer a sounding board. These days, I really need someone to walk me through the decision-making process, hold my hand (and heart) so to speak.
I had chosen 10 sets of color chips, 30 colors in all. Most of them are National Trust for Historic Preservation colors. All of them are green. While I did toy with the idea of a rich mushroom or a fantastic mustard or delicious dirty pumpkin, I came to the conclusion that I would be stupid if I chose any other color than green for the room where I spend the majority of my waking hours whilst in my home.
One by one, we held the paint samples upon the parlor wall, to match the paint there (which will eventually be in the parlor, stairwell, and upstairs hallway) and to see it against the woodwork. One by one, colors were eliminated as not complementary to either the parlor wall or the woodwork. In the end, we narrowed the choices down to two colors. Then we made a trip to the living room and held both colors up against the wall behind one of the lamps. That final act showed a clear winner: Homestead Resort Pale Olive.
I am unsure how many gallons of paint I will need. I am thinking, perhaps, I will need three of them. I wish I could get away with two, but the room is large, even with two windows, a set of French doors, and a fireplace taking up space along the walls.
Of course, I am sure you can see the wheels spinning in my head and rightly surmise that I am trying to decide if I might be able to paint the room myself since the parlor work took a total of five days, whereas this would be just one.
I would be remiss if I did not also point out the other mercy my realtor showed me. Two ways, really. She almost always comes bearing a small gift--mostly, things with sodium in them. Today's offering is a bag of rather tasty cheddar cheese rice chips. A single serving has 410 mg of sodium. I do best if I can get in over a 1,000 mg per meal, but this is a great option for me. That she is thinking about my problems with food and tries to find solutions for me tells me that she cares for me, really cares for me, reminding me that we share a Good Shepherd who knows full well how large doses of sodium can make better days for me.
The second thing is hard to speak, for I have been hurt by those who do not understand this. Right now, I cannot bear to be touched. Even though hugs are few and far between in my life and I crave that sort of kindness, most of the time I cannot bear it. She is a hugger. By far, she would come over and hug me every morning on her way to work and hug me every evening on the way home were I to give her the go ahead. Even so, she does not hold it against me that I do not wish to be touched. She does not think me wrong or unloving or crazy or any such thing.
When she comes and when she leaves, it seems to me she purposely stands a bit farther off from me than while she is visiting. When we are playing on the floor with Amos, she sits close to me. I like that she does so, that she positions herself so that I can have the comfort of her presence. But she is careful to show me that she understands my needs and that who I am and where I am is perfectly fine to her.
I think that is why she is such a big Amos fan. My little puppydog is probably the most cuddly dog on the entire plant, most likely the cuddliest dog God ever created. He does not scare me or make me feel uncomfortable when he is draped about me the way that having people touch me these days does. He curls up beside me, behind me, in my lap, on my shoulder...any way you can imagine. If he is beside me, he prefers to have a paw resting on my leg or arm. He follows me everywhere and will rest his head on my feet when I am working on dishes or laundry. He will leap up into my arms, getting farther off the ground every day. While I am holding him, he will rest his head on my shoulder and sigh with deep, deep contentment. Truly, not a day has gone by where I have not been on my knees in thankfulness that my Good Shepherd brought Amos into my life at this time. I know that my realtor also gives Him thanks and praise for the wonder of the nature of my puppydog.
Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.
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