What happens when it rains, then snows, then rains some more, then snows some more, and then the wind picks up to, oh, around 45/km/hr? It's not a riddle. You know what happens? You stay home and miss your Uncle's funeral, that's what.
It just goes to show you we can make all of the plans in the world, but the first thing we have to realize is we have very little to do with whether or not they are executed.
We simply have to accept, adjust, and move on.
Easy isn't part of the equation, because not one of these steps ever is. Even when what happens isn't big. Even when what happens doesn't drastically change the course of our lives, even then.....not easy.....ever.
Each step takes time, and that's okay. Each step seems both easier and more difficult at the same time. You can't help but feel that the last step, the one you just took, has to be the hardest, until you take the next.
Eventually, while your not looking, the difficulty will begin to fade, and moving on will feel a bit more natural, still not easy, but not as tough. The heaviness in your step will begin to lift. You'll take with you the best of what was, leaving the worst of the pain behind.
A new "normal" will begin to take hold. Laughter will begin to feel less foreign in your mouth, and snippets of joy will once again be able to be felt, truly felt, more deeply felt, beneath the mask you show the world. Through this journey, hold the hands of those who walk with you. If the hands are out of reach, reach further, call louder, scream. It's much more difficult to get lost while holding the hands of those with a clearer sense of direction.
This is not advice. Who the hell am I to give advice?! This is just stuff I've learned through the various crap storms that have come through my own life. I can't claim it will be the same for everyone...or anyone, for that matter. All I can do is put it out there in hopes that it might help someone who happens to come across it.
On a lighter note, here is another tidbit that may be deemed as a bit helpful.
Taking a child, around 5 or 6 years old to the movie DeadPool, isn't likely a real good choice.
Don't get me wrong, my hubby and I enjoyed it immensely but I wouldn't recommend it to anyone who is easily offended by violence, strong language, and/or nudity. Any one of these would be reason enough to NOT to take a 5 year old to this movie.
At first, I thought they might have walked into the wrong theatre...it happens.....nope. The kid sat through the whole thing. Every brain splatter, sex scene, and obscenity were put forth on the giant screen and were often met by pretty big reactions from said child. I can't help but wonder what the conversation leading up to this decision sounded like? It had to be pretty entertaining logic.
Best case scenario? Nightmares
Worst case? Future letters to Doctor Phil trying to get help with the child's screwed up attitude toward sex and violence. For now? Many extremely interesting letters coming home from school. Show and tell ought to be Fantastic!
So as the next few days approach, we will likely be playing host to Mother Nature's slightly crazy cousin, El Nino, once again. This means we will be going from -14 right now to melting by tomorrow afternoon. This crazy cousin, though unpredictable, as the rain in February....in Saskatchewan, might indicate, has not been all bad. Winter started later, has been warmer, with less snow. We'll take it!
Through this flaky weather, over the next week...........
Fix a trailer, fix another trailer, and fix another trailer.............
Squeeze some grandbabies..........hopefully all of them......
Write!!!!!!!!!!
Oh, and get served with a subpoena to be a witness in court.............but that's a story for a later date..........
Until next time I'll leave you with this wish............(Tongue in Cheek, of course)
May you enjoy the fruits of your decisions, whether juicy/ripe or mouldy/fermented be.
May the consequences have no permanent adverse effect on those too young to trouble foresee.
May any nightmares be swift, becoming only a speck of disturbance to your child's slumber.
May you, if they take hold, be granted access to Dr. Phil's telephone number.
May you, when this decision boomerangs, in all it's glorious, fermented mess, making you feel the fool.
May you believe it was worth not forking out for a sitter to go and see DeadPool!
Until next time!
www.margyreidbooks.com
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