A house full of guys...I'm the only one who can find the Ketchup.

It all started in the beginning of our marriage. I tried to ignore it, but it's too ugly to hide. I didn't tell our counselor, in fear of digging up an issue we'd never be able to solve. And now the worst has happened. He's passed this horrible trait on to our children. Ladies, I need your help, your strength, your support. Or am I alone? Is it only my husband and sons who have "I-can't-see-what's-right-in-front-of-my-face" disease?

Here was the first sign: "Wife, we are out of ketchup." I hear him say from the kitchen. We were having hot dogs that night and the thought of having hot dogs without ketchup...that'd be like me paying full price for cereal...NOT GONNA HAPPEN.

I replied lovingly, "Husband, I KNOW we have ketchup. Last week we had like 5 bottles that were 1/3 full." He opened the fridge to look again.

"Nope!"

I came over to the fridge and knew what I would find. Not one, but two bottles of ketchup in less than .5 seconds.

And it only gets worse, thus the reason for the post:

The boys' bedroom is upstairs. They go through clothes like crazy and I hate doing laundry which is a very dangerous combination. I get their laundry washed, and folded, but then usually it sits in laundry baskets in their room. Since we use our downstairs for life and company and very rarely use the upstairs, I very rarely make it a priority to get their laundry put away.

Last week Blake was getting his outfits from the laundry baskets. There were three of them. He came downstairs and said, "MOM! I don't have any underwear! And I have to wear Tyler's pants again!" He's short, so it works. The underwear thing I didn't buy however, so I went upstairs and got him a pair in the allotted .5 seconds I had bet myself in my head.

The next day when Mike was getting them dressed, he said, "Wife, Blake has no pants, and he still has no underwear."

I asked, "Did you look in all of the laundry baskets?"

"Yes," he said, "there's none in there."

You might want to sit down for this because this is the point at which our family "hit the bottom" and it may be inappropriate for some viewers. When Mike took Blake to school and Tyler took his nap, I headed up the stairs to finally face the 3 baskets of laundry I had ignored for some time. While I sat and sorted and refolded, do you know what I found? THIRTY TWO pairs of underwear friends. Thirty two. And, sure, they are tiny and I can see how some of them can get hidden in-between the pants and shirts and all, but SERIOUSLY.

Please tell me there is hope for my husband. Please tell me that in his future he will be able to find stuff. And my boys...I want them to have ALL of his traits except this one but it appears that it is too late. I'm afraid.
Thirty two.

This message was paid for by the Campaign to raise money for the Darbi Johnson School for Husbands and Children Who Can't Find Stuff.

Who will?

I think life is always going to be this way. Tougher than I thought. It's as if the first 25 years or so were seemingly carefree, but as soon as I was introduced to suffering, my heart is drawn to it, and I refuse to let anyone else feel pain. Friends, family, strangers, it doesn't matter. If I sense suffering, most common sense leaves the building and a combination of drama and heart take over. This, while being called a "good quality" by some, has driven others (coughMIKEcough) crazy.

Example: While enjoying a vacation in Hawaii last month, it was hard to not notice the YOUNG prostitutes hitting on my husband right in front of my eyes. Upon research in my hotel we found that often these girls, marked by their clear high-heeled shoes, are young students trying to make ends meet. The vulturous pimps will watch for them in front of designer stores in malls and look for pretty girls who look like they wish they could afford said items. They will hit on these girls and become their "boyfriends", getting them used to a high-dollar lifestyle. Later, the girl is raped by said boyfriend. The pimp throws a wad of cash at the abused and says, "You just did your first trick. Welcome to your new job." And just like that, they're trapped. And the cops let it happen as long as they stay in their part of town and don't cause major trouble. So, welcome to Hawaii! Have a nice time!

These girls looked the age of the youth group girls I work with. And they picked up their man (usually 3 times their age, 3 times their weight) in the front of our hotel and walked him down the side, then reappeared 20 minutes later to gather seconds, then thirds, all while reporting for duty to some scuz bucket on a cel-phone past 3am (that's when I stopped watching).

Most people would say, "Gosh that's sad, but there's nothing we can really do about it in 7 days, so let's enjoy our romantic, once in a lifetime vacation."

Not me. I was on the balcony at 3am, figuring out an escape plan. I figured with our savings I could get a cheap charter bus, or at least an Airporter and that could hold at least 20. I'd just pull up right there in front of the Denny's with my megaphone and say, "Lot's of hot guys in here girls! You'll DEFINITELY want to come with me!" (wink, wink) They'd pour in, I'd slam the doors shut and yell, "Drive, Miguel, DRIVE!" I would call Mike, Miguel if we were ever on a get-away mission, to protect his identity. Then while Mike drove, I would give the girls sweatshirts, jeans and Crocs (ugly as sin, but SO much more comfortable than those high heels they're forced to wear all night on pavement). I would start to tell them that there is a much better plan for there life and that I can help them get out of the life they are in if they choose it.

Twenty years later I would get letters from them... with pictures of their children... and the veterinarian practice they just opened up... called Darbaria. (This is the part where my brother said to me "You're in a bus, on an island...the furthest you could take them was 20 miles away. Did you think about that?") And instantly, my Oprah moment is over.

But I truly did feel like I COULD CHANGE THE HOOKERS in Waikiki. And I feel like I WILL HAVE THE PERFECT THING TO SAY to take my brother's addiction away. And I feel like I NEED TO KEEP ADOPTING until all of the babies are saved. And I feel like I NEED TO MAKE MY FRIENDS FEEL BETTER while their baby has cancer. And I feel like I NEED TO HELP MY OTHER FRIEND take charge of her brain cancer. And I feel like I NEED TO BE THE PERFECT MOM. And I feel like I...I....I....because if I don't, who will?

If you could see what I see...

I'm at the end of my rope.
I don't have any more to give to him.
I'm angry and don't care one minute, and then crying my eyes out the next.
I'm going to the doctor tomorrow to find out if the pain in my chest is an ulcer. I need to send him the bill.
It's a journey unlike the ones we've been through before. Death...we're pros. We know all the stages, which order, who to call when, etc.
But an addiction that won't go away is seemingly worse. And with each step, different feelings that hurt, different emotions that I don't know where to place.
My brother is older than me. He's supposed to have his life together and be telling ME what to do, how to live, how to deal with the pressures of life that he's already experienced. Instead I am the "big sister" and not in any of the fun ways.
In this role, I've seen the monseter his addiction has made him become, his choices he continues to make, and the fall out from it all.
But as his little sister, I see the hero, the comedian, the best friend, the musician, the role model...all of the things that I thought he was and can still become if only he would grasp the hand of God and choose the plan He has for his life.
Once again I am faced with the realization that I am SO glad I am not God. How many times has He seen a life that would be better for us...if only we would reach out for His hand? And knowing how many He is in charge of, I can't imagine how many ulcers He has...and then simultaneously heals.
I can't be angry with a God who is also watching my brother and waiting...patiently...for him to give up on a life of misery and surrender, but I just can't bear the roller coaster anymore.
So God, I pray once again, for your peace, which passes all understanding, and that you would please let my brother see....what I see.....what YOU see.....the beauty deep within himself that is waiting to come out. Help him to want Your plan for his life.
His plan is too much for any of us to bear.