Our British buddies over yonder across the big pond were on to something. The ol' stiff upper lip, at least, got them through World War II. I'm referring to the British Governmental campaign "Keep Calm and Carry On" posters that had limited distribution and no public display and were discovered stashed at the turn of this cenury.
"Keeping Calm and Carrying On" has been my motto this last week. I'm even teaching it to Grace (who, per usual, is fairly oblivious to the mess that's prompting my new mantra. Bless her easy-going spirit). We've got a lot of plates spinning right now–book number two is begging for time needed to send its proposal to potential agents and publishers. GraceArt has a new tile line and is adding to the number of galleries and now retail stores selling her work. (Like her page on Facebook: Grace Goad | Autism Art for the most up to date details on GraceArt.) We've had another time-hoarding situation that we found ourselves in and that I cannot comment on here but it's not pleasant and does not involve anyone related by blood or anyone on this side of the country. And then this weekend we launched the Phase One Workshops of the inclusive CreativeARTS co-op we are starting. It was a smashing success and fun. More on that later.
But all of this and the usual grind of daily living have been playing out in our condo which burst a water pipe in between the walls of Grace's bathroom and mine a week ago Saturday. I'm writing this to the hum of the last remaning humidifier and fan generating lipstick melting heat in Grace's closed bathroom. Our thermometer registered 78 last time I looked. It's winter and I have the air condition on. And that's the precursor. Our hallway is now gray concrete and the rest of our lovely wood flooring is going to have to come up too so that it can all be match-y-match-y again. Ditto the lovely, large square tile in her bathroom and mine. And the furniture in the great room will have to be put in storage for a few days. And, I work from home.
Bright side from that little pin-hole leak: I think insurance is gonna take care of us. All but one of the people we've dealt with in this process have been pleasant. And, with everything else in life, there's lessons.
The lessons I'm continuing to learn, just like the bugger (no pun intended) very involved saga $$ bedbug invasion we endured before we left our last condo a year ago (thank you upstairs neighbor) is to surrender. Keep Calm and Carry On. We don't live in the Philippines. This was not the Nashville Flood of 2010, which only inconvenienced us then as we sustained no serious flood damage like so many so devastatingly so.
The lesson is to remember: Life Happens. Stuff Happens. Sh*t Happens. It is was is. Forget the drama. Drop the victim card. It's nothing personal. No Sky God decided to teach me a thing or two. (Now that would be really mean of her, wouldn't it? I happen to believe Spirit is really kind and most loving.) I'm reminded to surrender in GrateFULLness and remember what's really important. The lesson amid the inconvience and mess within the home that I am fortunate to have when many are home-less, is to…
"Keep Calm and Carry On."
Thank you for this reminder. I agree about there not being a “Sky God” who sends trying situations our way as a means of schooling us. I resent it, quite frankly, when people say such to me, as if I didn’t have enough to learn!
Yeah, I actually had the plumber pull the “well, the Lord doesn’t give you more than you can handle” schtick. Yeah, don’t go telling that to a parent of a child with autism, I said. He got it. And yes, that is said to the likes of me often by people, I have decided, who are uncomfortable with my and other such families’ circumstances and bypass their pain with these pat comments. Ack.
As for the resentment/reaction, part, Amy: what I’m looking at within myself these days is that when I react I’m coming from a place of ego as if others actually have the power to wound me. (They don’t, unless I give them permission to and therefore choose to take on those feelings about myself. Then it becomes a commentary about what I think of myself.) If I’m coming from the field of love and compassion, of who I and we all truly are–but have forgotten through our experiences and cultural conditionings–I react out of defense of my ego. Note, I said, I am learning this. Not that I have mastered it. And this is simply my take and what I believe. Thanks for reading and commenting, Amy. I appreciate it.