The greatest highlight of last week’s happy felt as if it had a dozen (or more) !!!!!!!!!!!! attached to it.
In case you didn’t hear my shrieks of joy, you can catch up on my Moments AND learn a little something that might help you unearth your own happy HERE.
And just in case you have way more focus and discipline than I do, and you continued reading before clicking the link above, this is a SPOILER…the questions, the work that led me to my healing and the creation of The Five Facets is going to—nah, I can’t ruin it for you!
Below is an excerpt from my manuscript, Digging for the Light.
It is the first time that I became cognizant of the power of What if…
Enjoy (and be sure to go back and read the Happy Happens What if… post, if you haven’t already! I promise you’ll be energized!)
Can you identify What if questions that hold you in grief and which ones have helped you to heal your hurts?
All my very best for a beautiful week, Journeyers. Thanks for being here…
a Digging for the Light Excerpt
Before I realized it, it was ten of three. I snatched up my purse, day planner, and sunglasses and sped down the highway, watching for signs of a trooper.
It’s just an appointment, Annah… There’s no harm in being late…
Yeah, but it’s rude and inconsiderate…them wondering if we’re going to show up at all.
I slowed to a responsible speed, reassuring myself that a late patient was better than a dead one.
I picked up Fave at seven minutes after three, according to my watch, and walked into the office precisely ten minutes late.
I greeted the smiling receptionist, “Hi. We’re late—I’m so sorry.” I tightened my face in apologetic form.
She looked at me with this quizzical expression, and a really big smile, “Five minutes?”
I was grateful for her forgiveness—which comes in loads of ways, and dumbfounded to realize lots of people probably don’t care if they’re late. Probably just as many flat-out forget their appointments, while others, yet, never bother to call.
This time we didn’t have to wait on them. They called Fave before we’d settled comfortably in our seats.
One of the assistants spoke as I passed her, “You’re smiling,” and beamed me a huge grin.
I think this is her way of greeting people, because I’m sure she’s acknowledged me that way before, but it sure struck me as odd today. I wonder if she sensed the peacefulness I feel.
Fave sat in the dentist chair, playing with a Rubik’s cube. “How on Earth does this work?” he asked as he twisted and turned the cube segments, trying to match up the like colors. “We need to get one of these things.”
“We had one, but I dropped it on the porch and it shattered into a thousand pieces,” I replied, glancing up from the Peoplemagazine.
Much to my dismay, Fave unfurled his hand and let the toy roll off his fingertips as he leaned over the sidearm to watch what would happen when it hit the floor.
“What’re the odds of dropping this thing just right that it’ll break into a thousand pieces?” Still leaning over the rail, he peered over at me as if I could rattle off some academic dissertation.
“Fave,” I said in a forced whisper and gave him an I-don’t-believe-you-just-did-that raised-eyebrow smile.
But as I stooped to retrieve the still-intact cube, I chuckled silently.
The odds are always in my favor…if it’s gonna happen to someone, it’s gonna happen to me.
There’ve been many times I haven’t found humor in those same odds.
Fave was in and out of the office in less than fifteen minutes. He was starving, so I stopped at a gas station for a snack.
“A bag of chips for us to share,” was his way of conning an extra fifty cents out of me. As we drove to his aunt’s house to pick up his siblings, sharing that bag of Funyuns, I remembered the toast, stone cold, which was to have been my lunch.
“I just realized I forgot to eat my lunch… I’ve been working on my book since you kids got on the bus this morning.”
“How’s it coming?” he asked.
“Great. It’s been a really good day.”
Fave started filling me in on his day, describing this new homework-incentive-reward-plan his teacher had told the students about.
“That sounds—״ I glanced over my shoulder and gave my son a smile as I tried to find the right word to describe the interesting, exciting, something-to-work-towards strategy when: “Oh my God—”
I saw the red lights flashing at me, screaming for me to stop. But it was too late. I was beside the school bus when I realized the stop sign was out.
My foot stomped the brake pedal; my fingers clenched the steering wheel in anticipation of the crash. My eyes darted frantically, looking for a child.
Did the bus driver just turn the lights on as I was passing, or have the children already gotten off the bus?
In my rear-view mirror, I saw the middle-schooler bounding up the hill to his house.
What if he’d been crossing the street?… I never would have seen him.
I didn’t finish telling my son what I thought about that homework strategy. I maintained my grip on the steering wheel to still my trembling hands and had to keep reminding myself that “what if” takes you nowhere.
What if takes you nowhere when used as a means of altering or defining the past–it can’t change or re-shape what has already transpired.
What if holds no answers.
What if is useful only in a forward-moving direction—as a vessel that transports us to learning and growth.