Footprints

 

One night I sat on my kitchen floor cleaning my roomba.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the pink rug of my floor as I cleaned my roomba, removing the paneling and latches to dust every nook and cranny; insisting that reading the instructions were not necesary. 

In each scene I noticed one set of footprints in the sand, and that of my roomba.

Sometimes there were both sets of footprints, other times there were only my set of footprints.

This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from
anguish, sorrow or defeat,  I could see only one set of footprints.

So I said to Roomba, “You promised me Roomba, that if I loved you and cleaned you and changed your brushes that you would walk with me always, and listen to my complaints, and find me a job, and make me dinner. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life
there have only been one set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most, you have not been there for me?”

The Roomba replied, “My Child, it was then, that I got lost, knocked into some furniture, found the second bedroom and subsequently trapped myself under the dresser.”

The Lady often sees the face of God when seriously cleaning appliances that haven't really been touched in 4 years. It's got a point when it comes to self-determination, we can't rely on Roomba's good intentions to truly navigate us through the hard times.

Though I always knew deep down that Roomba was doing its best to clean the second bedroom, The Lady instead, might suggest a page from the Little Red Hen of yesteryear, when tackling the insane, inconsistent, maddening, and daft world of job hunting.  You'll do it yourself.

After all, it's worked for this Lady. 

She'll have more to report once that first check clears!