Lots of things got lost this week.
If you live anywhere near the Illinois/Wisconsin border, you know what I’m talking about. We had three rounds of 80 mph winds and several torrential thunderstorms that took down 6 trees in our forest. In the midst of the chaos, we lost power, my car transmission broke, the new roof started leaking at The Norwegian, my phone got wet and is shot, and my computer is about to kick the bucket.
But of all the things I lost this week, nothing was so crippling as the moment I lost my sense of humor.
I just snapped. I watched trees falling and plants blowing away and water coming through the ceiling and then lost my cool (to be fair: I’m never really all that cool). Still, not my finest hours.
I think the snap happened because I’m the one who’s responsible for fixing all that broke. If I weren’t responsible, I could have just made a dandy time of it all like my son, who ran with manic joy through the dark house, twirling lanterns and flashlights, screaming “heyyyy babyyyyyy” at the top of his lungs. He saw the strange environment as an opportunity.
And it’s dawning on me tonight that I absolutely could have done the same. Being a tense downer through the storms did nothing to improve the situation. My son, in his not-at-all-infinite wisdom, had it right.
When our little worlds are falling down and there’s little in the moment that can be done, maybe we just need to embrace the wreckage—and even enjoy it—while we figure out how to pick up the pieces. I’ve seen people lose a lot more and handle it a lot better than I did all week. There’s a strange release that comes from laughing through a shit storm. I’m off to give it a whirl.
Reader, I hope this week finds you light in the heart and seizing the day, even the terrible ones. I’ll see you next Sunday. -Em