Are we there yet?

Yesterday, I met up with a friend I had not seen in almost a year.  We traded information about what has gone on in our lives these past months and we each ended our recitation with a similar tag line,  “This isn’t how  it was supposed to go.”

I kept thinking about that idea.  We know life is chaotic.  We know change is constant.  We know crystal balls are the things of sideshows, and yet we all still say, “This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

When I was little, we used a carseat (it fit over the front bench seat and allowed my head to block the rear view mirror) that had a steering wheel and horn.  I would steer like a demon, and hit the horn endlessly.  But for all my aggressive toddler driving, I had minimal impact on where we ended up.  I thought all trips should end at the beach or with animal crackers — not at the Acme or the doctor.  Forces greater than myself, and often unknown to me, determined where we went.

Sometime after that I decided I could  control all the destinations.  And some of them I have.  But the best ones, the most important ones, I was surprised by.  Even the worst destinations: the darkest, ugliest, most desolate places have eventually taught me something important.  Something that proved useful, albeit painful, later. Had I known, I would not have chosen to go there. But then I wouldn’t have learned what I did.

The older I get, and the more I see, the more peace I find in the idea that I don’t know or decide where this is all going.  And I don’t have to.  I’ll pay attention and learn what I can while I’m there.  But I would still like some animal crackers…

 

Annemarie Stroud