Woody Alan said, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.”
Although I’ve always believed life is a combination of effort, skill, and events out of my control, I forget. I wake up in the morning thinking the day is mine to create, and then, wham, something unexpected hits me in the side of the head.
Don’t get me wrong, I have ultimate gratefulness for my blessings, but there are times in my life I want to holler, “Uncle! Enough already.”
Like you, I have several examples of my life floating along just fine, only to have it turned upside-down in a flash. For example: When my family was young, I flipped the pickup truck on an icy country road, the next day, my husband had an intersection collision, and a week or so later, my daughter fell off monkey bars on her first day of kindergarten and broke the growth plate in her elbow. Life seems to come in waves and challenge our core substance.
Most of us can relate to the song, “Honey, I’m home,” sung by Shania Twain where she’s late for work, the car won’t start, her boss got smart, her hair went flat, and she forgot her purse. We have limits, and we’ve all had those days—ones when we should have stayed in bed.
My lesson came around again on Super Bowl Sunday, and it was the culmination of several. I shared with you my previous positive COVID test. Three weeks later, I tested positive again and learned I had to cancel my Mohs procedure for a basal cell carcinoma on my nose until I tested negative. Sunday morning, I went for a walk with my husband, and my foot slipped off the curb; down I went, and after a full afternoon in the emergency room, I found I had a bone fractured in both legs. Yep. Ouch.
Picture it; I now have a splint to my knee on my right ankle and a big blue velcro brace on the left knee. I have a walker and can’t even carry a cup of tea to my new home, the recliner. My poor husband, who doesn’t need a helpless wife, is my godsend.
I write this because I can now laugh—at myself. Other than Ibuprofen, laughter is survival. My immediate anger (fear, frustration, hurt, unfairness) made me sad and discouraged but ultimately helped flip to the humor in it all. I admit I do look a little funny. Okay, I look quite hilarious.
Life happens in waves, and nobody is exempt. I do not want any sympathy. I only want you to remember life happens, and sometimes laughter, behind the right attitude, is our best tool to move us through and forward.
Until the next time: Live while you live.
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