I seriously must let go of the control issues I have about watching over Betty. When she called Bob last night, one of the things she mentioned was, coming back on the ferry alone. She says, "Pat doesn't have to come over with me..I will just get my suitcase up there and find a seat like always." Well, aside from the fact that she has two bags, there is always the issue of...what if Bob and I are delayed getting her from the ferry? There are a few "what if's"; car breaks down, an accident, traffic. She would arrive and have her bags brought off the ferry and plunked wherever. Then she would be wondering where we are..are we in the parking lot? Did we forget? Are we delayed? Was there an accident? Were we hurt? These are the things that this woman thinks about when we are in our beds and she is calling before breakfast so I am sure she would be able to get pretty worked up.
Is it just me? I am the one who gets literally sick over this. I worry, my stomach juices flow, I get pain...blah blah blah. I thought the arrangements were made. We would go over with her and her daughter would come back with her. The game would be played. We would tell Betty that we were excited about going over. Pat would tell Betty that her husband would be on a bike ride and a ferry trip would be fun. Do I have to call Pat and ask her if the plans are the same or is she bending to her mother's proclamation that "she will be ok alone?"
I suppose this sounds terribly controlling. I know it does to my husband. I was a Girl Scout and I grew up to be a leader and a Boy Scout leader. "Be Prepared" I am one who likes to think through things and try to avoid problems. You could say that in doing so I cause my own upset stomach but I would say that if you go along with my fail-safe measures...no stomach problems!
So, today I will work on Letting Go. Maybe I should recite that Serenity Prayer over and over.
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Bob Betty Pat