♪♫ Like a good neighbor...

....State Farm is there ♪♫

Okay, so this isn't really a State Farm commercial, and really about good neighbors and friends, but I couldn't just leave that jingle just hanging there, half finished.

Last week I had the opportunity to be grateful for good friends and neighbors not once but twice.

Last Sunday I took John to the airport.   The plan was that after I arrived home I had about one hour to get finish getting myself and my kids ready for church.  Doable.  Nick was already gone practicing a song with the young men that they would be singing in church the next week.  I left the older two with instructions that they were to be bathed before I got home.  They were. 

Everything was going smooth for the most part (Christopher tries to convince me he needs to stay home every week) But then I walked in the door, pushing the button to shut the garage door behind me.  It wasn't long before I heard a loud crash. I ran out in the garage expecting to see some huge catastrophe, but at first glance I couldn't see anything wrong.

Then I noticed this-

That long black thing above the garage is the spring, and it's not supposed to be in two pieces.  And when it broke, it dropped my garage door on it's way down. (the crash) So I set the garage to manual and tried to lift with all my might. No such luck.  It didn't budge.

I was stuck.

There was no way I was going to be able to get my car out.

Madison was the good example and immediately called a friend and asked for a ride.  I wasn't sure if I had time to find rides for everyone and be ready when those said rides materialized, so I gave up before I started and texted Nick that I most likely would not be at church and he needed to find a ride home.

After some explaination of the situation, he texted back saying that he and his scout leader would be over in a few minutes.

Long story short, they were able to lift my garage so that I could back out and even make it to church on time.

We delivered a big plate of Thank-You Cookies ( sugar cookies) to this man's house the next night.  And the bonus was that they were in the middle of watching a movie in the back yard and invited us over.

That night when I got home I checked my e-mail before going to bed to find something that set me panicking.

In just two days Nick would be attending a Mountain Man rendezvous with his fellow scouters, and some mothers determined that they needed "capotes".  (Big fuzzy mountain-man like coats to keep them warm).  Other boys had done them in years past, they were always a big hit, and it was the consensus of the mothers that they didn't want to send their boys off without this particular wardrobe item. 

The email stated that the mothers (all of which I consider my friends) were all getting together the next day at noon with our purchased material and sewing machines so we could send the boys off in style.

That's great in theory, and John's response to the forwarded e-mail said "That sounds great! Nick would love it! They're supposed to be really warm."

My response back was "Did you read the part about me showing up at the church with my non-existent sewing machine and my non-existent sewing skills?"  (not to mention that fabric stores give me the hives, because they speak another language and look at me like I 'm an idiot and don't belong there.)

I ended up responding back to the email to the other mothers saying that I really really can't sew, don't own a sewing machine etc. (I pay people in caramels to sew on scout badges)

I spent some time on the internet trying to figure out if I could buy one, (not cheap, and not at all similar to the example pictures that came in the email)

After talking to Nick, he said it was okay if we just borrowed one.  He knows I have my limits and sewing anything is beyond them.  I am sure he was disappointed, but he didn't show it. 

As I started making phone calls I received a new email from one of the mothers.  She said she had extra material I could have.  Her son changed his mind on the color choice, and if Nick was ok with gray he could have that material, and if I helped cut it out, she would sew it up that night.

I think I heard angels sing.

Whether or not gray (with black and white animal print for the hood and sleeves) would have been his first choice, Nick never let on. He was just excited and grateful to have his own.  (he made that knife and wanted to show it off too.)

My friend got a big plate of cookies too.

Twice this week, when things were looking hopeless, I received a message via email or text that help was on the way.  We would have survived with the car stuck in the garage for a day or two, and Nick would have made do without complaint if the best I could give him was a borrowed capote, but I am so grateful for good friends and neighbors who stop by in their suit and tie to heft a dirty garage door for me, or stay up after her kids go to bed so that Nick will have his own capote like all the other boys.

Excuse me, not just "good neighbors", The Best.

I'm thankful for awesome neighbors

When I was in the second grade my dad lost his job, but was able to find another in Wisconsin. (We lived in Utah) We put the house up for sale, and my dad moved off to the other side of the world (it might as well have been) for almost a year. Back then there were no cell phones with free long distance, no texting, no e-mail, no skype. We got to talk to him on the phone for very brief moments every once in awhile, and send him letters. (the paper and postage kind)

I missed my dad but remember being grateful for our neighbors. The Breton's lived next door and were some of the best neighbors we could ask for. I remember he was always happy and willing to help out whenever we needed help. Fixing bikes, etc. I missed my dad, but was comforted with the thought that help was still there when we needed it.

(the house never sold,-the housing market was bad then too, and eventually my dad found a new job in Utah, so we never ended up moving to Wisconsin)

Fast forward 20+ or so years to last night-

To clarify, usually our garage is so full of junk that I have to carefully pull into my allotted spot, but ever since John cleaned out a good chunk of it, I've not been so careful about staying on my side of the line.

That's why when Zach got in the car last night to go to cub scouts (his first ever pack meeting, and where he would earn his first rank advancement- the bobcat ), he didn't notice the red pull cord that hangs from the garage door light get caught in the car door. This particular pull cord is what you use to switch from the manual setting (you know-old school-lifting the garage door with your bare hands) to automatic (the button on the wall or the remote in the car)

The end result was that the garage door started coming down as I was pulling out, scratching the top of my suburban, knocking the garage door of the tracks, and denting the garage door all to hell.

Meanwhile I am stuck in my garage with an 8 year old boy freaking out because he is afraid he will miss the awards ceremony, and people who are depending on me to be there. (remember I'm a leader?)

Naturally John is out of town, and we only have the one car anyway. (oh, hi John. sorry about the garage. I love you. Ü)

Enter our next door neighbor Mike to save the day.

His son was outside playing, saw the wreckage and said "I'll go get my dad!" and ran off home.

Within minutes Mike was over, surveying the wreckage, reattaching the wheel that popped off, using a mallet to bang the door back into shape, fitting it back into the tracks, reattaching it to the chain so it can remotely go up and down (at this point I would have been overjoyed with only manual usage), and in essence, saving the day.

That's the "after" photo- I don't have any "befores" . Taking pictures for the blog was the last thing on my mind.

I'm also thinking a thank-you pie is in order.