Poppy. and Pokemon. and Poppy playing Pokemon.

Ads/news/blogs/Facebook/Twitter…now we are starting to see who is passionate about what and where they (say) they want to go with that and in some cases why and often not how they think it should be only how it shouldn’t.

And I have to remember these wise old words, “The grouch and the brainstorm were not for us.”~

Droid X phone ~

I’ve mellowed over the years. I can still be a hot-head. I can also let things slide. And somehow, I’ve begun to wonder what might be happening on the other side of the fence.

Today, a big Suburban came barreling up behind me on the highway. I was slowing down to change lanes and exit (ahem, I was in the right lane, man) and s/he clearly wanted to get by. I wasn’t going fast enough for him I guess because he flashed his lights at me, almost touched my bumper, and sped up after I had completed my lane change.

“Gee wiz, buddy. Get a grip.”

And then I though, Maybe…

Maybe s/he was late for a doctor appointment.
Maybe s/he was called to the school for a sick child and was worried.
Maybe someone is having an emergency and s/he needs to get to the hospital, fast.
Maybe s/he needs to pee real bad or go poop or throw up.
Maybe his wife is having a baby.

Maybe…

I was in a car once that sped down the hwy well over the speed limit (Ok, as a doula who used to work with mothers in labor this has happened more than once). On this particular day, a severely premature baby was threatening to be born. Broken waters and hard contractions. There had not been time to call 911, only time to get in the car and go. Was it legal? Was it safe? Was it ideal? No.

Did we get to the hospital on time? Yes. And the sweet premature baby is now 7 (or so) years old.

I wrote a story for a client once and we had it published in a small parenting magazine. There ended up being a dispute about payment (with the magazine) and I needed to work out some details with my client. I called her. She never called back. I emailed her. No word. I fretted and worried.

Maybe…

Maybe she’s angry with me.
Maybe she hated the end result.
Maybe she’s frustrated with the editorial changes made by the magazine (I was).
Maybe I broke her trust somehow in the details I chose to highlight for the piece.

Maybe…

Her husband contacted me from her email address several weeks later and it went something like this: “I’m so sorry my wife hasn’t gotten back to you. Remember those headaches she was having? It turns out she has very advanced brain tumors. I’m sorry, she has been very sick and she may only have a few months to live. I hope you understand.”

Did we ever discuss the challenges surrounding that article again? Nope. And she died a little less than a year later.

Maybe a little perspective goes a long way. My dad used to tell us, “Don’t sweat the petty things and don’t pet the sweaty things.” In other words, perhaps…

In road transport, a yield… traffic sign indicates that each driver must prepare to stop if necessary to let a driver on another approach proceed. A driver who stops has yielded the right of way to another. ~Wiki

I’ve had things to do and people to see this week. Projects to start and projects to finish. Phone calls to make and play dates to set up. I’ve made some lists and plans. Some of those have come off without a hitch (most of them are tasks that hang over me until I get them done)…

…schedule yearly well child for QueenBee!
…do some admin for our FSA card.
…return calls about a research study for QueenBee’s care.
…search for a new respite helper, send out job description, field phone calls.
…make deposits (yea money!).
…move laundry.
…make some web updates.
…send emails/RSVP’s/texts and chats to all of the necessary places.

…and more of the same.

In the midst of all of that I have had to let go of some things. Things I can’t control. Things I wish I could. Things that I had planned to accomplish or pursue and the timing or circumstances have just not been right.

I cleared my schedule for some things while other things got cancelled or rearranged. Today, I’ve chosen to yield. For me, life is now a series of travels. Go. Stop. Scenic Overview. Rest Stop. Drive-thru. Car games. And Yield.

(I think I talked about yield in another post recently, right?)

Before I understood the concept of yield I was all go or all stop (I can still be that way sometimes). As I am learning to take my turn, listen to the small voice of Wisdom inside, let go of my plans, I am a lot…more…serene. I make a lot less mistakes. My decisions are not so foolish and do not take so much energy. I am learning to ‘stop arranging life to suit myself’ (not-so-semi-quote borrowed from a friend).

Yield. 

In a space I cleared for a work project, the work project didn’t happen, and something more important than everything else came up and I felt peace to be able to slide over on a different route where I am needed, and where I need to be.

**Sigh**
I did it right this time!

Later I decided to finish a crochet project. I had some time to sit and listen with some friends and I like to use those times to work with my hands. I got all arranged, reached for a crochet hook, and cut my hand on a very nice, sharp pair of sewing scissors. My sliced finger began to bleed profusely. The cream yarn I was planning to use would’ve been toast. I put it all away. I guess I was just supposed to listen.

And when I got home I had to accept another fact of life: a band-aid. If you know me, you know I hate hate hate (strongly dislike) them. But my finger is bleeding and it hurts and without a band-aid I would not be sitting here typing to you.

Yield.

In contrast [to a yield sign], a stop sign requires each driver to stop completely before proceeding, even if no other traffic is present. ~Wiki