An old 12-Step axiom is, "Want to make God laugh? Tell Him your plans." (No, I'm not saying that "God" is a "He" per se; bear with me here). To me now this is an eyes rolling duh. Perhaps the duh quotient is more bittersweet as one of my core lessons includes having desires without trying to staple them to my forehead. It's truly one of the running conundrums of the leukemia dance, the Here Now! doing its gyrations with "... and then I'd really like to...."
An example is the morning when I had a number of Important Things pencilled in. (I've learned that much at least - to use a pencil in my Day-Timer). Tony got off the phone and said, "One of the sheep is stuck in a fence and we can't reach the farmer. I'm going up the track to get it unstuck." He then looked at me. "Do you want to come along?"
"Well, yeah!" I chirped.
"Bring your camera," said Tony and off we went.
You'd think that momma sheep would have been close by, maternal urgings desperate to find her offspring, well, sprung. She was nowhere in sight. Little lambie was there with its head in the fence, lunging and bleating like a broken record. Well, you can see the photos. I needn't belabor the process - Tony came to the rescue and the little clueless one went scampering back to the farther away grouping of its fellows. Next time you enjoy a lamb chop, consider the transmission of intelligence. Not!
We did get our daily hooting fix of "Sheep Shaggers Monthly" jokes. I wouldn't upload the photo at first for that reason. "Tony. I can't post THIS!" I said. "Oh go ahead," he grinned. There is a holy solace in not taking yourself too seriously.
Later that day a swarm of bees was part of the diem interruptus. But wait a minute here... what was being interrupted? My thoughts? My intentions? My desires? A little lamb was given a few more months of life (you do know why these are bred and it's not for the local pet store).... a garden with two beehives became one with three. Who interrupts what? I was busy frowning over my age spots and how to treat them when leukemia struck last October. Now I see the sweet elders shuffling along the High Street or in my tiny new parish church and think, "Yes, I want to be like you... older, slower, alive." And aware.
To recap a few of my lessons:
1. If you yearn and go for it, try to minimize the adverse consequences.
2. Don't be afraid to ask for help. Yelling is allowed.
3. Don't be afraid to mess up your Day-Timer by giving help.
4. If you see a swarm of bees, keep walking.
Thoughts and options change. Life is full of curve balls. I used to judge myself more harshly for being easily distracted. Now I pray for flexibility... and awareness...