Bad Luck, Beautiful Blessings

Before you read my blog about bad luck, you must know that when I originally posted it on Facebook, it was deleted by their algorithm because “it looked like spam.” Thank you Facebook for really driving the point home about my inherent lack of luck. I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony! I responded to their “Support” Message indicating that my blog was not spam and they restored my post several days later. Naturally, I had to edit my blog to include these series of events. Life makes me laugh.

 

I have often wondered if my mother gave birth to me under a ladder, with a black cat resting on her belly, while the OBGYN spilled salt and held a cracked mirror to capture the visual of my beautiful birth. I am not the person you take to Vegas if you hope to win. I AM the person you take to Vegas if you need someone to laugh at. I’m the one who falls off the riser during a choir concert, breaks her arm in an alumni game, sleeps through a college final, gives the wrong date for the house party, gives the wrong address for the house party, suffers a computer crash and loses the 18-page term paper that’s due the next day, gets pulled over as a suspect for a car wash burglary, gets busted at a concert for taking a picture of the band while everyone else is consuming illegal drugs, has her blog post about bad luck deleted by Facebook’s algorithm (yes this just happened), and starts desensitization therapy for a life-limiting bug phobia while contracting lice the same week. I am that person!

As I grow older and reminisce on my last 37 (or so) years, and how I ended up where I am now, a mom of 2 precious children, with a husband I adore, and a job I enjoy more often than not, I can’t help but acknowledge that I’ve never been a lucky person, but I’ve always been blessed. I have travelled through many painful moments, life-altering circumstances, and dark seasons, yet in every one of them I have witnessed blessings that illustrate divine intervention in my life over and over again. I could write a book of these events, but let me start with one.

I was in graduate school for my Master’s in Social Work with a clear goal to work for Hospice of the Valley (HOV) and to eventually become independently licensed so that I could open up my own private practice. It was my second year and I was fortunate enough to have a connection at Hospice of the Valley. Generally, a master’s level student who interned for HOV was hired to work for them after graduation, so I was thrilled to have a colleague who put me in touch with the Director.

During this busy season I was also in the midst of a divorce and struggling to keep school, a full-time job, and my sanity on the up-swing. Naturally, this was the optimal time for a beastly toothache…the kind that can’t tolerate the cool air that comes with breathing in (AKA surviving). Like most “normal” people, I have a serious disdain for dentists and needles. I went weeks with a throbbing face before I finally gave in and made an appointment to see the sadistic and evil tooth monster. In the interim, I had gratefully run across an old prescription of Darvocet that my ex-husband left in our cabinet, and would take a pill every once in a while so that I could eat (AKA surviving). As I anxiously awaited the dental appointment, I attended school, went to work, and pursued my internship opportunity.

Amidst the daily chaos, I received a call from the Director of HOV to schedule an interview, and I was thrilled. The interview went well and she asked when I could start. I was ready to begin immediately, so she enrolled me in training and I went in for my fingerprinting and drug test as soon as possible. The following week I attended training and fell in love with everything about the company’s philosophy, vision, and mission. Then, the unthinkable (and I literally mean, this did NOT cross my mind for a second) happened.

I was driving home from work when I received a call from the lab. After brief introductions, the friendly man on the phone asked, “do you have a prescription for Darvocet?” I couldn’t see straight as I realized what I had done. My mind was screaming, “this cannot be happening!” I told the lab technician that I had taken my ex-husbands Darvocet a few times for a terrible toothache and that I even had a dentist appointment the following week for a suspected root canal. For a brief moment I actually thought I could talk him into bending the rules for me because it was, after all, an innocent mistake and I had been in a lot of pain and I’m a good person, and he should unquestionably know all of this without ever having met me! Certainly I can make him believe all my good intentions, because this couldn’t be happening to my dream…my career…my 5 year plan!! Let’s get real folks! I was applying for an internship where I would be working with exorbitant amounts of controlled substances every day, so of course my urinalysis was reported as “dirty” and my dreams to work for HOV disappeared with 1 phone call. I will never forget the crushing feeling. I pulled my car over as I was sobbing too hard to safely drive, and I called the friend who had put her reputation on the line to refer me. I slobbered on my phone. I blubbered. I ugly cried and hit my steering wheel and hated myself with fervor. “How could I be so stupid?! How did I not even THINK about this possibility. How was I getting a higher education and still capable of being such a complete and utter clueless moron!?” I truly believed I had destroyed my chances of being in the profession I had been called to and I was beside myself with grief. I had lost my dream.

But, God had a redemption story in mind. From this incredibly disappointing crossroads, I ended up searching for a profession outside my comfort zone. I began a job I NEVER would have considered before, and that job ended up uncovering gifts I didn’t know I had and a passion I thought had burned out long ago. From this unexpected turn of events I was set on a path I never could’ve found nor even looked for on my own, and I was challenged to grow in leaps and bounds and supported in ways that made me feel stronger and more capable than I had ever felt in my life. I can look back now and see that my strengths would not have been utilized in direct practice and my emotional health would’ve been at risk in a hospice environment. What I thought was one of my biggest failures, the most unlucky of events, the curse of my salty birth, turned out to be one of God’s biggest triumphs as he showed me that He always has a plan and His plan is always good. Divine intervention has brought me to where I am today in many ways. This is just one of countless moments where God has steered the ship of my life to a place I could never have navigated. God used the illegal (although innocent) use of controlled substances to change the course of my life for the better. Thanks God! You’re hilarious!

What I’ve observed over and over in my life is that a lack of luck is not a curse. A lack of luck opens the door wide open for God to step in and forge his will in my life. For every trial there is blessing. For every pile of ashes there is beauty.

Thank God I failed my drug test!

 

Unconventional Gratitude

As I was falling asleep last night and thinking of all the traditional things I give thanks for (my health, my work, my family’s health, my kids, my home, my friends, Gods many blessings in my life, etc.) I began to wonder if I could find a spirit of gratitude for the things I usually coin as inconveniences or pain points in my life. I pulled together this quick list (some silly, some serious) of things I wouldn’t have been thankful for at first glance, but that have added value to my life in big and small ways.  

I’m thankful for a messy house

  • We have a home
  • We have healthy children who love to play in said home
  • We have toys for our healthy children to leave scattered around said home

 I’m thankful for all the jobs I didn’t get or that didn’t fit

  • I kept searching and praying until I found a job I loved with people I love even more

 I’m thankful God helped me find a wonderful therapist and the right anti-depressant

  • God gives us tools and I use them. I don’t think much more needs to be said 😊

 I’m thankful for our destructive, loud, shedding, jumpy, dirty Jack Russell Terrier

  • He sniffs out scorpions. That is all. 

 I’m thankful for traffic

  • Traffic allows me more time to listen to my favorite podcasts, which add light to my life

 I’m thankful for President Trump (go with me here)

  • I have pressed into The Lord to find supernatural joy, grace, love, forgiveness, and peace more times this year than I’ve ever done before and my relationship with The Lord has grown tenfold as a result
  • I pray more
  • I’m reminded that I’m not in control
  • I have learned and continue to learn how to have hard conversations with people I love while remaining respectful, kind, and open
  • I have seen women more empowered and I pray this is the beginning of a cultural shift that my son and daughter will benefit from

 I’m thankful that divorce is never the end of God’s plan for love in our lives

  • I am now married to my soulmate and not a day goes by that I don’t consider how blessed I am to have found him
  • I have 2 beautiful children with my soulmate and I cannot imagine life without them

I’m thankful for the lessons God taught me as he delivered me from the cage of crippling fear

  • Freedom isn’t easy but it’s worth it
  • It’s important to share our story because it could plant the seed that encourages others to face their fears with faith and hope
  • A spirit of fear is not from The Lord
  • God can break chains
  • Vulnerability is courage
  • Standing in hope for someone else may be all they have to hold onto

 I’m thankful for the lessons God taught me through debilitating pain and the inability to care for my first child for the first 3 months of his life

  • I am never in control
  • I must humble myself and ask for help when I need it
  • Books, articles, social media, and scientific research do not have all the answers regarding how to raise a child
  • LOVE is the greatest commandment and LOVE saves
  • God is faithful and never leaves me alone
  • There is beauty and blessings to be seen in the most difficult trials
  • Massage is crucial and should be covered by health insurance
  • God will give us the strength to move through what this broken world delivers
  • A meal goes a long way and prayer goes even further
  • Hope can mean the difference between life and death

 I’m thankful for the lessons God taught me through the untimely and unexpected death of my brother

  • Laughter can co-exist with tears and joy can live alongside grief
  • Saying “I love you” prevents regret
  • Again, I’m not in control
  • Again, A meal goes a long way and prayer goes even further
  • Empathy is necessary
  • Reaching out even when I don’t know what to say or do can lead to deep and beautiful friendships 
  • Crying with someone lifts their burdens even if for just a moment
  • Sometimes there are no words and that’s ok
  • Touch gives strength
  • Those who are mourning need us long after everything seems normal

It turns out that there’s more to be grateful for than the obvious and traditional blessings. I pray that the next trial I face (and there will be many) I will be filled with hope as I remember that beauty rises from ashes, character is refined in fire, light chases darkness away, and blessings can be found during and on the other side of every situation no matter how difficult.  

 Happy Thanksgiving (even for the unconventional) Day!!!

Firework (make ’em go “Ha Ha Ha”)

In 2010 my husband and I honeymooned in the beautiful country of Vietnam. We have many incredible stories from our trip, but there is one story that really stands out as it includes 3 lovely Vietnamese pointing at my husband and dissolving into laughter.

We spent the first half of our trip in the cities of Hanoi and Saigon and were unable to rent scooters because it is understood that it would be much too dangerous for tourists to ride anything motorized in the city. Just crossing the street is taking your life into your own hands. We were, however, fortunate enough to spend our last 5 days in a secluded resort on the beach. With the jungle on one side and the ocean on the other, the resort was willing to rent scooters to tourists with the naive assumption that not much harm could be done in such a peaceful setting.

We decided that a day on a scooter would be a lot of fun and would allow us to travel to see the biggest reclining Buddha statue in the world. Three Vietnamese employees brought us to the front of the resort to give us a brief demonstration on how to use the scooter. They showed us how to turn the scooter on (turn the key), use the brakes (squeeze the handles), turn it off (turn the keys the other way), and that was our training. They handed us our helmets and my husband excitedly jumped on. I, on the other hand, have an aversion to risking my life. With my husband at the wheel of a new “toy” I felt it best that he first take a trial run around the large circular entrance without me. It turns out that this was a wise decision.

My husband had no trouble turning the scooter on (great success!). He took off at a comfortable speed, and just when I thought I had needlessly been too cautious, he leaned into the left turn of the driveway. This is the moment when fireworks and gut-busting laughter erupted. Sparks began to fly as the kickstand on the scooter dragged along the asphalt and sent Pete bouncing from left to right like a violent weeble wobble. Pete would lean left, the kickstand would hit, “TING,” sparks would fly, the bike would jerk sharply to the right and Pete would have just enough wherewithal to avoid tipping over. He would overcorrect and the kickstand would hit again, “TING,” sparks flying. It was a beautiful and scary show of lights and sound. At first, the 3 employees tried to hide their laughter, but I could see their little shoulders shaking, and eventually, hands were over mouths and the guffawing could not be contained. Watching Pete on this scooter was like watching a little boy in tee-ball hit the ball and run to third base. He was so confident, but it was so wrong!

It felt like my husband’s trip around the entrance was happening in slow motion as the employees graduated from trying to conceal their laughter to outright pointing at him while he barely stayed vertical. When he made it back around to us, he unabashedly adjusted what was left of the kickstand to it’s proper place and confidently said to me, “you ready?!” Of course I said, “Hell No!”

I mean really honey…you almost set the jungle on fire with your kickstand flare.

The employees were also second guessing whether or not they should still allow us to rent the scooter. I can only assume that after our very risky rental they were forced to develop 100’s of pages of disclosures, formal training, and a driving test that would ensure they never again rented to another clueless yet confident American.

To my husbands’s credit, he was capable of a few successful laps on the scooter with it’s kickstand in the upright position, so I took a leap of faith, fastened my helmet on tightly and reluctantly climbed onto the back. I like to think that my husband “ignited” the best day of our entire vacation and as much as I tease my husband about his inability to assess risk, I’m thankful for our adventures (and our survival). I truly believe it’s about balance. He will always create fun and I will always try to keep us safe…after he practices on his own a few times.

Packing Light

I had recently escaped a job that felt like a 1-year marathon. I crossed the finish line thirsty for a healthy environment, hungry for a boss with no relation to Satan, and pissing myself from relief that I was finally done! I was fortunate to be moving on to my first Supervisory position, and I was determined to make a good impression and lock in a positive reputation from the very beginning. With that being said, I was thrilled when the department’s VP gave me the chance to travel out-of-town (with my husband) to attend a formal dinner alongside senior leadership. This was a rare opportunity for exposure to a group of people I wouldn’t otherwise interact with, and I certainly wanted to make it count!

The day of the dinner, my husband and I did some sight-seeing, and then realizing he didn’t pack his tie, we swung by Target and bought him a new one. After a relaxing day, we returned to the hotel, and I started to primp and prep for the important night ahead. An hour before we had to leave I began encouraging (otherwise known as nagging) my husband to get ready. He was adamant that as a man he could be ready in a measly 15 minutes. Once the show he was watching (about surround-sound systems, or 4-wheeling, or Italian cars, or Grateful Dead, or sex, or all of the above) had ended, he finally made his way into the shower. As he shaved, I filled him in on the people who would be at the event and what positions they held. We were hard-core “first impression” prepping. Then, 5 minutes before we had to leave, my dear, intelligent, capable husband turned to me and said,

Where are my pants?”

I remember thinking…”please be referring to your underwear. We can do commando and have a great story to tell later. You’ll shake hands with important people while experiencing total floppy freedom…it will be liberating.” But, no…he meant the pants that you wear over your underwear. Pants are such a given requirement that even the signs about “No service” only mention shoes and shirts.

I will whole heartedly admit that I went into full crazy-wife freak out mode with thoughts of homicide and divorce in no particular order. I was halfway through painting my toenails, but didn’t have time to finish as we sprinted to the car and map-quested the nearest Target. (Side note: I am a social worker and my husband is a therapist, so we did not map-quest Nordstrom). We had 15 minutes to buy my husband a pair of pants and get to the resort for dinner. At Target, my husband bought a sturdy pair of black, stain-resistant, 100% cotton, Cherokee pants that paired with his silk Calvin Klein jacket and shiny Calvin Klein shoes in that classic beatnik (I don’t care what you think of me) way we were both hoping for. While he drove like a bat out of hell, I tried to keep my shaking hands from strangling him and attempted to finish embellishing my toes. While parked in the car, my husband threw his seat back and put on his brand new Cherokees that were a charming inch and a half too short. We half-walked, half ran into the resort’s lobby while I imagined how we might sneak in 20 minutes late without being noticed, and how we could sell our disheveled look as the new modern Zoolander “Derelict” fashion trend. As we hurried towards the conference room I heard someone yell out my name. We turned around to find my Vice President leisurely sipping a drink at the bar. When we joined him, he explained that the time on the invitation was incorrect and that the dinner didn’t actually start for another 40 minutes.

We were 40 minutes early!

We were 40 minutes early, yet my toes looked like a 2-year-old had caught me sock-less in my sleep and my husband was dressed like he stole pants from a 16-year-old Boston Market employee. Thank God I already HAD this job!

The next day, my husband (who spends $300-$500 on new speakers every 3 days) returned the tie and pants for a whopping $22 refund. He is now convinced that there is no need to pack for trips because he can buy what he needs once he gets there and return it when he’s done.

I can honestly say (and maybe you know someone like this too), that my husband is the luckiest person I know. He can make the biggest bonehead mistakes and it literally always works out for him. If the tables were turned and I had forgotten my dress, I can guarantee you that Target would’ve been out of all sizes except XS, my boss would’ve caught me changing in the car, one of my heels would’ve snapped off as we hurried through the parking lot, and when we arrived at the resort we would’ve been informed that the dinner was actually the night before. My husband’s good fortune in these circumstances is the reason I haven’t throttled him yet. However, everyone’s luck runs out eventually, so in the interim I’m working on increasing my hand strength…preparation is key.

Marriage has taught me that many of the moments we feel disappointed or frustrated with our significant other can instead be perceived as adventures….pant-less adventures. When I look back on that night I realize that it was always going to be a funny story…even if we had ended up being late. Maybe the hiccups in life are meant for us to hold our breath till they pass, and enjoy a good laugh afterwards!

Slip of the Tongue

A few years back I had some suspicious symptoms which lead to several cardiac tests that made me feel older than I am….or reminded me that I’m older than I act. First, I had to wear a heart monitor for 24 hours that would sound off a dramatic series of beeps each time it detected something irregular (like intercourse), then I had a stress test (which is as yoga-like as it sounds), and finally I was scheduled for an EKG.

The day I went in for my EKG a nice young nurse took me into the exam room and explained that I needed to undress from the waist up and put on a cozy hospital gown with the opening in the front. She also instructed me to lie on the exam table on my left side with my left arm straight above my head, and my right arm behind me and out of the way. When she left the room, I did as I was told, and being the prudish woman that I am, I fussed and fussed with the opening of my gown to make sure that both my nipples were covered…OMG, I’m such an old maid that even typing the word “nipple” makes me blush! Let me try that again…I fussed and fussed with the opening of my gown to ensure that all confidential areas were kept off the record. I was in just the right position to retain my dignity when a young, very handsome, MALE technician walked into the room. I was mortified at my vulnerability as he professionally proceeded to administer the EKG (in my chestal region OR what my best friend and I fondly refer to as the boobelarea, which sounds like a disease you can contract in Africa). With his hands so very near the “twins,” I felt out of sorts, sweaty, violated even…but in a 50 Shades of Grey way. As if he had done this a thousand times he asked, “What symptoms were you having that prompted the cardiologist to order this EKG?”

I smoothly responded, “I was having shortness of breasts.”

SOB!!! <Apparently there are many interpretations of this acronym!>

This slip of the tongue did NOT make things LESS awkward, but it sure did make for a good story once I got the heck out of that office! My advice to you: When you’re in an uncomfortable situation, use “private parts” puns (intentionally or unintentionally). If you don’t laugh then…you will most certainly laugh later! J