Mindfulness

In a moment, everything can change. Everyone says that. One can imagine it to be true, especially if you watch the news.

But when it happens to you, in a big way, it seems much more complicated than those six little words. The last 19 days of my life have been... a blur.

These last few days, I have the urge to just make a big list. A list of lists I guess it would be. Things that were hard. Things that were terrifying. Surprises, changes, realizations... The list of plural nouns swirls in my head. Maybe my urge to write it all down comes from a need to release it from my head to give me some space.

Sometimes I feel like my guts have been ripped out and replaced with... clarity and confusion at the same time.

Then the quesitons come, most prominently, "What is really important?", and then, "Is THAT thing, right in front of me, really important?" The answers to those two questions, as I have moved through these 19 days, have surprised me. Some things I have considered difficult in the past, and therefore I have dreaded and avoided, now seem critical. And now I have to do them because I see their value, and I'm already behind, and with swirling nouns and ripped out guts, too.

And some things are no longer important. At all. But I have to purge them, and they're mixed in with the things that I need to keep... and sometimes it's just easier to sit on the couch instead of managing them.

And I am thankful. Nineteen days ago, my husband of three months and three days was in a terrible car accident as a result of a freak snowstorm. I am thankful that he had good care in the first hour. I am thankful for my parents, who went out into the same snowstorm that had just almost killed my husband so I would have a safe ride to the hospital to be with him. I am thankful that, despite his seemingly horrific injuries, he will recover. I'm thankful that our children were not in the car. I am thankful for our oldest daughter, who has been a tremendous help through this whole situation. I'm thankful that he is taking the situation extremely well. Two other family members had frightening experiences that same week, and I am thankful that they are both doing ok. That list goes on and on.

And now I am ready for stillness again. I am ready for the chaos of the accident, the phone calls, the wounds, the worry, the planning and replanning, the questions, the speculation, the appointments, the administrivia, the rebuilding, all of it, to settle. Even just for a moment. I am ready to celebrate my family and what we have, without the reactionary stance I've assumed for the last 19 days. Today I feel so lucky. I just want to focus on that right now.

Today, 19 days after the accident, which will probably be known as "The Accident", I don't know for sure what has changed and what hasn't. I can't know what this has done to the future, but I'm curious to find out. In the movies, actors who don't wallow in self pity after things like this happen seem to come out with a new clarity. They become happier people because they know what's really important. Today, I'm just wondering what happened to my car radio. Before, it was my constant companion. Now it is, at best, an annoyance and at worst, in danger of being torn out of the dash and pitched out the window along with all its noise. I can't listen to it. I don't know why. But I know it's related to the accident somehow. Maybe it's too like the noise in my head, which I'm trying my best to calm. To quiet the noise, I should focus on the love of my family and keep the car radio off. At least that's my plan.

How much time does it take to change time?

It can start with a knock on the door. It's not who was expected. A new face. A question and a warning. And everything is falling. Falling falling falling. Spilling. Spilled. But then things change again. Things may not be as bad as they seem. Pieces are fit together again. Growing up happens. Healing happens. And important things are all that remain.