Ha! I'm starting to wonder if that tempted fate. Or perhaps until now I had just been taking for granted all the good luck that accompanied the bad. I won't go into detail, except to say that this fall had some rough spots. Knowing that there are many, many people way worse off than me... well, that wasn't exactly a cheerful thought either.
I found myself second-guessing my own decisions and wondering what lesson I was supposed to be absorbing.
I saw several choices:
1. I could be angry at God for not delivering the usual goods and services.
2. I could wonder what I did wrong and why I was being "punished."
3. I could continue resolutely to have faith that prosperity and love and happiness will soon come my way again, for being such a good and devoted servant.
All of these attitudes strike me as faintly arrogant. I mean, who am I to deserve special treatment? Why should I be assured rewards when so many other soldiers in the war, good people like Esmin Green and Viola Liuzzo, ended their lives without them?
I guess where I am is that I am trying to walk away from the expectations game. We'll call this approach Door Number Four.
I still have faith--that I am loved, that existence has meaning and purpose. But I am trying to leave behind the mentality of carrot and stick. I believe that every experience contains opportunity for learning and growth, even if many of those lessons are not ones I would choose to learn.
Do I think that maybe all this luck (good and bad) was random? That maybe Things Don't Happen for a Reason?
All the time, all the time.
What if I had just had a little more sense and a little less idealism, and chosen to have babies five years ago instead of writing a book? Would I still be living in a fancy Plaza-Midwood custom home, the wife of a corporate lawyer, enjoying all the comforts and perks that upper middle class society can confer?
There's no way to know. But there is no going back to that life. Even if I could, I know I would still be restless, haunted by what might have been.
There may not be any meaning to existence except what I impart to it. I realize that. But I will take insight and hope wherever I can find them, consume every crumb greedily and hungrily, then look around for some more.