Since then, I’ve been trundling around on a knee scooter, dutifully keeping my weight off that foot. I’ve developed aches and soreness in various compensating body parts. I’ve had to learn how to take things slowly and have patience with myself and the situation. It takes a toll emotionally and physically. 

Friends have been wonderfully supportive, filling in for me, taking on my responsibilities, planting flowers, bringing in meals, sending me loving, healing energy.

My husband, Peter, has been marvelous picking up the slack around the house and mealtimes, and there has been a lot of slack to pick up. Of course, he and I have different ideas about what constitutes an orderly home. I’ve had to let go of my neat fixation and focus on what is most important. So, meals get prepared, dishes washed, kitchen counters wiped down, trash taken out, dirty clothes laundered, lawn mowed, plants watered and the dog fed and walked. On the whole it’s quite a lot, considering Peter is doing almost all of it.

Beyond that, we’ve let the rest of home care slide, most especially the picking up of the detritus of daily living. Consequently, scattered about most of our main floor living space are various collections, cardboard boxes from Amazon deliveries (hey, I’m sitting all day, what else do I have to do?) piles of mail awaiting attention, last week’s projects scattered on the dining room table, tiny legions of plastic cars and toy parts amass army-like on the living room floor from the recent visit with our grandchildren, scraps of playdough with crumbs of who knows what on the floor that our voracious lab has yet to discover.

Said lab is also in the midst of her twice a year molt. Goldie sheds at least a pound of fur each summer and fall. Usually, I brush her outdoors during shedding season, but the stairs to the yard are daunting when you’re negotiating them on crutches. We’re now growing fluffy, dog fur kitties under the kitchen counters, around chair legs, and something that looks more like a polar bear out on the porch.

Our pretty family room sitting area has become my de facto office, as I’ve gradually surrounded my favorite chair with pillows, crutches, knee scooter, laptop, tablet, chargers, drinks, tissues, file boxes, various writing implements, lunch dishes and meditation paraphernalia etc.

I’m considering putting a sign on the front door. “Watch your step, real life happening here!”

Yesterday, Peter collected our two grandsons, ages 6 and almost 9, and brought them to our house for an overnight visit. They settled in happily, pulling out toys and asking for snacks. Shortly after their arrival their other grandmother dropped off our granddaughter age 11 and came in for a chat. Normally I would have been mortified to have her see the state the house was in. But when she left, I realized that it hadn’t even occurred to me to worry about it.

The grandkids were delightful, helping out, cooperating, sailing around on the knee scooter, enjoying life in the way that children do. Today, the kids have gone to their Dad’s home, our house looks, well, you know, and my neighbor just stopped in for a short visit bringing chocolate chip cookies. I thanked her, laughed with her about life on a knee scooter and totally forgot to feel embarrassed about the fluffy polar bear brazenly sitting in the corner of the porch.
What’s the takeaway here?

Real life is happening here in my home. Picture perfect neatness, though I love it, is for magazines. No one lives or loves in those rooms. No one sits down to read a book together or share a meal. Perhaps a broken foot, a little mess, some clutter, a furball or two are tolerable, when the reward is time invested in appreciating those around you, allowing them to pitch in, do it their way, even if their way is not your way. It is a way, and it is real life, a good life.

Since last Thursday when the main floor and basement of our home was flooded, Spirit has consistently moved me out of the cozy comfort zone of my usual routines. The peaceful haven that is my home has been turned into a tornado of noise. This morning I turned on the garbage disposal in the kitchen and could barely hear it.

My ears are stuffed with squishy, bright orange ear plugs. The muted, multi-toned roar of fans, humidifiers and heater still manages to reach my abused ears. The machinery sits about on the floors of my home. Fans looking like huge, blue snails blow in every direction; the wind bouncing off walls drilled through with large holes. The hum of humidifiers competes with the fans, and the heater wins out over all with a high-pitched, unnerving tone rather like a blender set on high. There are black floor drying mats, outlined in blue painter’s tape, attached to the heater/blower by long curving, bright yellow tubes with a multitude of smaller tubes sticking out of them. They look like enormous centipedes crawling across the floor. This is a unique experience for me.  
 
The silver lining is that this won’t last much longer. The looming cloud is the next step of working with contractors to put our home back together.
 
OK, not the most positive attitude. We are so lucky in the middle of a pandemic that we have been relatively unaffected. Our family and friends are all fine. A flooding toilet has been more disruptive to our lives than a world-wide pandemic. I’m counting my blessings, believe me.
 
So, what’s the life lesson here?
 
“The root of suffering is attachment.”
-Buddha
 
In this case attachment to my life as I perceive it should be. Wouldn’t it be easier if I could just accept what is? For sure it would. So, why do I choose to feel so stressed by it all? How I feel is a choice, though apparently that message hasn’t gotten through to my pounding heart, overwhelmed ears and strung out nervous system. Neither has the run-away thought train in my mind paid any attention to the warning flags of severe grumpiness posted all over the track.
 
Perhaps the first step is to stop taking the situation so seriously.
 
“This too shall pass.”
-Rumi
 
The next step is to take control of what is possible.  This situation has left me feeling out of control of my home in addition to what’s going on in the world. That leaves me feeling insecure and vulnerable. It feels like there is no safe place.
 
See what I mean about taking things too seriously? 😉
 
I deeply believe that we live in a beneficent Universe and all that happens in our lives ultimately benefits us. As Abraham-Hicks says, “Everything is always working out for me.” It’s just that sometimes my inner child gets involved and throws a tantrum about how it’s all being done to her. Then she looks tearful and says, “This is so scary!” I feel for the kid.
 
So, what can we take control of when things feel out of control?
 
It’s all a matter of perspective.
 
There is a wonderful story of a guru and his devotee. The devotee comes before his guru and complains that his in-laws are living with him and his wife in his small house. They are taking up too much room. His house feels cramped and crowded. Can’t the guru do something about it?
 
The guru tells his devotee that he can solve his problem. He tells his devotee to go home and bring his goat into the house. The devotee doesn’t see how this will help but he trusts his guru. He goes home and moves his goat into the house.
 
The next day the devotee is back at his guru’s knee complaining of how much worse it all is. The guru tells him to bring his cow into the house with them.
 
The devotee is horrified but does as his guru says.
 
The next day the devotee is back, complaining even more.  The guru tells him to bring in his chickens.
 
Finally, the following day, ready to tear his hair out, the devotee goes back to his guru. The devotee tells his guru that the animals have taken over his home, messing everything up. There is no room for the people. The situation is intolerable.
 
The guru then tells him to take the animals all back outside. The devotee rushes home to obey his guru.
 
The devotee comes back the next day full of delighted wonder. His house suddenly feels enormous. His guru has solved the devotee’s problem. The devotee has changed his perspective.

A good lesson here. Don't you think?
 
Another way to take control of what we can control is by creating a displacement activity. This doesn’t solve the problem but it is an effective stress reliever.
 
This morning as I walked around the house the chaos was getting to me. The clutter and mess of ripped out baseboards, holes drilled in the walls, boxes of books removed from living room book cases, furniture helter-skelter around the living room, workshop filled with boxes of books and gaming paraphernalia from the basement, noisy fans and dehumidifiers in every room, floor drying mats with hoses waiting for me to trip over them. I wanted to clean everything up and put the house back in order. The feeling was so strong it was like craving a food you cannot have. Instead, I created a displacement activity for myself.
 
A displacement activity is an instinctual form of releasing pent up anxiety.
 
“Displacement behavior usually occurs when an animal is torn between two conflicting drives, such as fear and aggression. Displacement activities often consist of comfort movements, such as grooming, scratching, drinking, or eating.” https://www.britannica.com/science/displacement-activity
 
In this case I’m torn between the desire to get my house fixed and my desire to throw all the fans and repair people out the front door. Instead, I’ll displace all that pent-up craving for peace and order into decluttering and cleaning my upstairs closet – doors closed, gentle music playing, and away from the noise and chaos downstairs. Bringing order and harmony into one small area of my home. I feel better just thinking about it.
 
Here are the three steps again.

1. Stop taking it all so seriously - We live in a beneficent Universe. Ultimately this situation is going to work out for your benefit. This will lead you right into the next step…
2. Change your perspective – How could you look at this situation differently, more positively?
3. Give yourself a displacement activity – When you have done everything you can reasonably do to resolve the situation, focus on something else entirely. Do something comforting and harmonious. Bring order and structure into some other area of your life.