Day 9 Brad Paisley

There's no good way to put this, to write this. I'm trying again, forcing these words out. There is no good way to capture the problem in words, or the pain.

My husband was much in demand for a long time. Someone always wanted something from him. There was the young woman who had an accident while driving her grandfather's truck. Please, please, fix it, she pleaded.
Can you design a part for my motorcycle?
Can you build me a car carrier?
Can you drive me eighty miles so I can look at a used refrigerator? Can you haul it back, since you have a truck?
Can you fix my computer?
Can you fix the air conditioning in my daughter's car?
Can you lay tile in my house?
Bring your trailer so we can give hay rides.

I watched the one I loved best hurt himself trying to help others. I dragged our young children outside to say goodnight to their father, because some people would not leave.

I often didn't matter to these supplicants. I was background noise, no one important. A stay-at-home mom, someone who didn't get out much, who didn't behave correctly, who didn't fit in, who didn't even drive. Worthless, valueless, they judged me. I saw these people, but they didn't see me.

I was invisible to these outsiders, but not to my husband.. When I became discouraged, my love let me know I really did matter. I mattered to him. I'm on the verge of tears now, remembering the rejection I saw so often.

One night, we were shopping and I came across the CD Time Well Wasted and purchased it. This song was on that disk summed up what I saw happening to me, and my husband's response to it. I never expected that anyone would understand or recognize my problem, let alone write a song about it. Thank you, Brad Paisley, thank you very much.