If Everything Sucks, Why am I so Calm?

It’s been a rough couple weeks around here.

My friend died, my husband is unemployed again, my radiology results came back less than stellar. Christmas is around the corner, the pantry is housing at least one mouse, and we had to evacuate our bedroom on account of 12,000 lady bugs, excuse me, biting Asian Beetles. My husband spilled water on his brand new gifted laptop and killed it, the dead battery in the car turned out to be not only the battery, but also the alternator, the grinding was the rotors as well as the brakes. As much as I hate it, I’ve pretty much decided my son needs to be treated for his ADHD. The roof is leaking, the door of the dishwasher is falling off, and the cat puked on the carpet. Oh, and I forgot picture day and sent the girls to school disheveled and clashing.

And I’m totally okay.

In fact, I just spent ten minutes outside staring up at the strange green/orange light, feeling remarkably lucky.  The whole world looks like it’s behind some chromatic iPhone filter, and the clouds are moving so fast I feel drunk.

I have the overwhelming feeling that everything will be okay. That it is already okay. That the whole universe is moving according to plan and that my only job is to be here to appreciate it as much as I am able.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not one to go in for “woo-woo” anything. I am rational and objective-oriented to a fault. So, I have no excuse for my sense of wellbeing. According to all metrics I should be a wreck. Even with the addition of anti-depressants.

But I’m not.

I listen to my children prattle on about Santa Claus wish-lists while I wipe mouse poop from the top of bean cans and I feel… eager to discover what’s coming. Not anxious or depressed, but simply curious. What’s the plan here? I’m doing everything I can. Mike is doing everything he can. What lessons will we have learned a year from now? What amazing, incredible journey is on the way?

A friend just stopped by to pick up the unused breast pump I got when the twins were born. At 38 weeks pregnant, she looked uncomfortable and a little nervous, but glowing and excited, and I thought, “Yes, that’s it. That’s where I am too.”  Aware that pain and struggle are on the horizon, but oh so excited to find out what’s on the other side.

It may be naivety talking, but so far, even though NOTHING in my life has panned out according to Plan A, everything is so much better than I could have imagined. And also, if I’m honest, so much harder. I’m starting to wonder if there is a correlation. The bigger the struggle the better the victory? I don’t know. Perhaps I’ll have to get back to you on that one.

In the meantime,  I’ll be here watching my children search for lucky four-leaf clovers in the dying grass, unaware that they, themselves, are already the luckiest things that could happen.

I wish for all of you: good friends and good work and nearly unattainable aspirations. Because faith lives in the hard stuff. It’s when we settle down into the ride with our hands above our heads that we feel most free. We do what we can and then we just let go. We just have to trust that the track we are on will get us back to where we belong, intact and better for the journey.