It is dangerous to believe we’ve had our share of an ill-wind. That misfortune should stay awhile but then move on and go find someone else. That sort of thinking keeps us stuck.
Crap days, a way for the universe to kick our behinds so that we appreciate how happy we were yesterday. I get it. And I do try to find grace in every day and be grateful for all the things that have and are going well in my life.
It’s hard though when the universe lobs daily globules of poo through the window. Poo you didn’t see coming and which is sticking to every fan in the house.
My recent crap storm began an August afternoon and kept going through October. Two hospital stays and two emergency operations later, I am trying hard not to rail at God and his universe. (Don’t tell my sister about the railing at God bit, though, will you. That particular poo sandwich I don’t need.)
But she’s right. It is dangerous thinking to believe we’ve had our share. That misfortune should stay awhile but then move on and go find someone else. That sort of thinking can keep us stuck and unable to discover what a given situation was sent to teach us.
My mother raised seven children, a challenging husband and stretched a meagre pay cheque. Rarely a sick day off, she persevered so that her family could thrive. And here I am with only me to look after now that I no longer have kids at home. Right now I have nothing else to do except get well, get strong and, as my mother would say, “Get on with it.” Maybe things aren’t so bad after all – and no, dear universe, that is not a challenge.