Chris and I ate out yesterday. For the first time in a year. I ordered soup. It may be Arizona, but soup in air conditioning is as good as soup on a snowy day.
I couldn't wait to dig in. Unfortunately, the gumbo was lukewarm. I asked the server if she would mind heating it up.
"No problem," she said.
She returned. I tried one spoonful. Lukewarm again. Chris stared in disbelief.
"It's steaming," he said.
"I know. But it's lukewarm inside." (I started to doubt myself.)
I gave the bad news to the server. I didn't really explain. I just asked her to take the soup off our bill and she did.
As she gave us our check, she asked why I sent it back. "Did you just not like it?"
"It was lukewarm again," I told her. I felt apologetic.
"We keep our soup on a warming tray. I talked to my manager. He said there's a cord that's frayed. Customers have been sending a lot of soup back. We need a new tray."
I share this story because it reminds me so much of our mold saga. My kids were sick. They looked fine. Thirty doctors said they were fine. I knew they were sick. But I still questioned my sanity.
Until I connected the frayed cord with their lukewarm bodies.
Thus the lesson that comes out of both experiences. You don't have to know everything. In fact, there may be a great deal of unknown. The key is not allowing the unknown to overpower what you do know.
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