In the description of the episode that happened off the cuff with no transcript, I said I was already composing the following one and then I would be done with things that were so personal to my own life. 

So this is the whole story, the sequel, the end of that moment in my life.

I told you about the trip we'd planned, and about the water pipes and about Toby's broken elbow.

Greg and I had agreed that we would wait until after the surgery to make the final call on going or not going on our adventure around the Western states.

Friday afternoon, when we arrived to get Toby after his surgery he had a new 'cast'. He was still somewhat under the effects of the anesthesia and walking like he was drunk but he was walking. It was stiff and awkward but he was hobbling along.

The surgeon spent some time with us showing us what he'd needed to do and giving us the piece of elbow bone he'd removed that had broken off then gave us strict instructions to not let the bandage get dirty or wet, to not let Toby run or jump and to only walk him on a short leash long enough to allow him to pee or poop. Oh. And to make him wear the donut around his neck so he couldn't lick at the bandages.And they'd see us in two weeks to take out the stitches.

So basically bed rest for two weeks. The surgeon saw my face and smiled. He said, I know, you are wondering how in the world you're going to keep him quiet for two weeks. He held up a while paper bag with handles and said, “This is how.” 

As he described each of the bottles of drugs in the bag and what purpose they would serve, I saw the trip slipping away. I knew we could not put him in the car for anything and that he needed to be in his own beds, in his own home, where he knows the territory and feels the safest. I took a deep breath and as I released it, I found a place of peace, knowing we would make the right decision for Toby's sake and it would all be alright.

The exhaustion I had felt that day in the pool was gone. I had renewed energy and felt the responsibility at hand, to help him heal slowly and thoughtfully.

The vet had described some of the medicines as “I-don't-give-a-damn” drugs. In other words, he said we may not be able to take away all of the awkwardness and discomfort, the itching and the angst at not being able to run and jump, but we can do our best to make him not care that all this happening. And the drugs worked. We managed. He managed.

Finding a place of calm in the storm, going to the pool that day to turn my face to the sun and recalibrate the direction life was taking us gave us the ability to slow down. Toby needed to be allowed to go slow in his healing, so we all slowed down. We stopped the frantic pace we were in preparing to leave and trying to button up the property for Winter a month earlier than normal. 

I had put off calling our friends John and Scott to tell them we would not be arriving for that long anticipated and deeply desired visit to Bainbridge Island. Because I knew we were disappointing them. I will do almost anything to not disappoint someone. Once the agony of that call eased, our lives simply slowed to a crawl and every day we were able to see the beauty of a spectacular Fall happening hour by hour surrounding our home. We nestled in and started enjoying the freedom of doing very little. I cooked and took slow walks with Toby. I felt the blessings and the gratitude in what had initially seemed so devastating. I found the seeds of Grace.

The saying, 'When life gives you lemons, make lemonade” has always made sense to me. I understand the spirit behind euphemisms like that and I've learned, somewhere along the way, to always look on the bright side ~ eventually. 

Most days, I turn around at least once and some days multiple times, and run right into my self. ~ I run into all the things about me that trip me up and throw barriers in front of contentment and joy. Those things I've been talking about for the past two weeks....attachment to outcome, expectations, getting ahead of myself of lagging behind.

Any of those things that take me away from 'what is' in the moment. Just being in against~ness to what is in the moment robs me of those things.

So when the water leak beneath the bedroom was discovered and the dog broke his leg I was listening, I waspaying attention. And I was consciously not in against~ness to any of it. I let the grief come, I honored it and I moved on. It helped to have my friend, John, remind me that sometimes its the anticipation and excitement around an upcoming dream coming true that's the best part of it. And it was true. Those weeks of summer, planning and preparing for our trip were fabulous. The joy was experienced daily. The grief over the derailment was brief.

I am a person who believes that we are, every single one of us, always right where we need to be. And usually, when things happen that are unexpected or momentarily derailing, I can say, “Well, no one died”. That seems to be the standard by which I measure those events.....it's my way to then be able to find the silver lining, to make spongecake and lemonade. “No one died” is a good reminder to me that short of that, whatever has happened, is somehow manageable.

But then October 7th happened and my world suddenly felt dire and dark, sad and frightening. My heart ached. The assault of mass killings anywhere in the world is felt everywhere in the world. Instantly. And the vibration of sorrow, disbelieve, fear and anger resonates around the globe. Because we have such instant and repeated exposure to anything that makes the news, we put ourselves at risk for repeated traumatization when we expose ourselves to 'screen time'. And since I fell down this rabbit hole, before I back myself out, I have to say to any parents of children who are still in the home who might be listening to this, you have a responsibility to protect your children from that repeated exposure. Children have no way of discerning that each time they see or hear about violence on a screen, that it is not happening again and again. So the trauma is multiplied in their minds. I don't feel, necessarily, qualified to speak in depth about the long term effects of that kind of exposure to violence and what it does to young children but the alarming rise in the numbers of young people addicted and dying in this country is connected, I feel certain, in part, to the events of 9/11 and all the unsettling, mind numbing, violent things that have occurred in our country since. 

OK. I'm backing out of that rabbit right now and will explore pursuing it in another podcast. And I didn't mean to get so sidetracked. But there is a tie-in because I was talking about making lemonade and finding the seeds of Grace when life throws us curve balls. And curve balls are NOT the same as mass shootings and war.

So how do we right the ship and stabilize the sense of goodness and hope when every day we hear about another disaster? 

We do it, by making sure we ourselves are not perpetuating the trauma drama. We do it by being it. By being goodness and hope. We do it by being kind to one another and generous with one another. I don't know any other way. We start within ourselves and then in our homes and then in our neighborhood and in our wider community. We do it riding the bus, sitting in an airport, driving in traffic. As often and as perfectly as possible, we embody what we want to see in the world. 

Some days are always going to be easier than others. When it is just a busted pipe or a broken leg and no one died, it is an easier day to be grateful. Because on those days when someone does die or when a whole lot of someones die, the task takes effort and practice and maybe connecting with others who, like yourself, want to get the recalibration out of the way and right the ship to head into the wind with love and compassion and gratitude.

Lately, my mind wants to go to the unimaginable grief being felt by so many people. All at once. It actually interferes with being able to take a full deep breath sometimes. The suffering is in our faces every day as soon as we turn on the television or the radio. I find myself weeping for those whose lives were so brutally interrupted by the death of loved ones. Or those who are in the agony of 'not knowing' or those living in the fear of being held against their will. I am choosing not to be repeatedly assaulted by the graphic footage of the carnage and devastation. I know it has happened, is happening and apparently is going to continue happening until it no longer does. But I do not need to give it air. For my own survival I am choosing to put my energy here; in the sphere of the place that I feel I can make a difference.

So thank you for joining me again. Thank you for being someone who is interested in how we can all do it better, and who is willing to take the time to listen to these missives. Please join me in a breath of love to the world, a breath of gratitude to the planet for not giving up on us yet and a breath to one another for continued hope.