Frankly, the telephone call at one in the morning should have tipped me off that my day or dentist appointment would hold a glitch.  Yes, one after midnight calling from a restricted number.

If the call to my cell had not been from a restricted number, I might have thought twice about answering.

If the young lady had not sounded so very professional when saying the words ‘to confirm your appointment’ I might not have listened further.

If I did not have an appointment that had not yet been confirmed, the one at eight in the morning for my dental work, I might not have listened.

If the message had not been so well timed with the punch line toward the end of the professional notice, I might not have listened.

If the message was about anything other than an appointment verification for dog poo clearing, I might not have laughed later.  The Dog Poo Company confirming a three in the afternoon schedule to clean up all the dog poo in my yard.

If I had thought it was at all funny in the moment, I might not have dialed in her ear. Next time I will use my megaphone siren.

So I lost sleep, then had to get up and go to the dentist appointment.

Wrong day, right time.

If I had not skipped the Renee Zellweger movie after the holiday dinner the night before in order to get to sleep early enough.

If the appointment did not require rising at four thirty in the morning on the fourth to the shortest day of the year.

If it had not been snowing little icy flakes for three days.

If I had not chosen the wrong door for my drop off and had to cross the icy parking lot to the right building.

If Hubby had not gone on many errands so I had to await his return.

If the staff scheduler, who was willing to work me in the dentist’s schedule, had not said it would take one to three hours to maybe get me in a chair.

If only one person in that waiting room had empathy with my predicament.  You know how it is when a herd of cows are grazing and one falls over dead? Well, maybe you don’t.  The rest of the herd just keeps doing what they were doing even though they lived their entire lives with the now deceased cow. That is how detached a waiting room of patients can act when someone just might get in front of them in schedule, especially if the intruder is there on the wrong day.

If I had not skipped my coffee and breakfast and had to sit there for an hour. 

If I had not arranged my entire day to spend the wrong morning with the dentist.

If hubby were not on three to eleven shift.

If we did not have to do this again the next morning…..

Then perhaps acceptance would be easier to come by.  Right?

My daughter was discussing acceptance with me a few days ago. Just accepting that, for example, the eggs are over hard instead of over easy when over easy and dippy was the way I ordered them. Enjoy and really accept over hard eggs with no runny yolk. Fake it until you make it.

But if one has enough days like this one of being on time for the dentist on the wrong day – and has been served dozens and dozens of over hard eggs in their life, then acceptance is an elusive, difficult choice. Especially when age fifty-three and rising.

Now, my daughter is wise.  But because she is less than half my age she is also still wide-eyed as she teaches me to accept just like I tried to teach her to accept life. I taught her that this too shall pass, that keep it simple silly was the best thing she could do, that when one door closes then another one opens. I taught her that acceptance is a key to all life’s problems.

So now that I am buggered with irritation and racked with should’ve, would’ve, could haves… now she will remind me.  Then one day, when she has had enough over hard eggs with no runny yolk for her toast, and when finally I, on the other hand, have given up entirely in trying to get anything to be my way – especially my eggs – then I will remind her of the ease of a life with complete and total acceptance.

I will remember then the sunshine that does come out of days like this.

If I had not had a morning of being on time for a dentist appointment I did not have then I would not have had a wonderful breakfast with Hubby and his sister, she who rescued me from the dentist office. I would never have had time for five cups of holiday coffee or to enjoy her Christmas tree with all the unique ornaments.

I know I have probably said this far too often, but once again, this blog would not have been so easy to write, if I had been at the dentist on the right day.

Essa Adams is the author of ‘A Breath Floats By‘ a.k.a. penname Thayne Hudson. She writes Women’s Fiction Blog, Pet Skunk Medicine and authors ESSA Natural.

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~And she was at peace…

December 24, 2008

spiritual awakening for life work We all need our magic spiritual train in life. What a blessing to find that magic when we are three.

I cannot stand waiting for Christmas just for my granddaughter to be able to open her gift. This year Thomas and friends is the magic Christmas present. I traded gifts with my daughter so they could give the train to her, but that doesn’t matter. Well, as long as I’m not the one giving jeans, so when she sees nothing fun in the bag says, “It’s gone.”

You understand if you have been a parent of small children, even older ones, they are so excited for a special gift that may unlock the world for them. Music, art, games, skates, globes, strobe lights, dolls. It’s all good. But does the gift match the child?

My daughter loved her bicycle, and she always was a local round-about. She loved the books, and she is an editor and writer. Loved the six-year-old cat that is still alive eighteen years later, still living with me, torturing me. Not her, the cat.  She walked on the guitar and dissected the dolls, except Cabbage Patch Stacey.

Point is the perfect Christmas gift for a child is magic for their life. The gift is a life awakening experience. Their spiritual blossoming. My belief system also includes Christmas gifts as an awakening to the child’s past lives, but that is just me believing.

This brings us to the magic train set for my granddaughter. I thought I would buy a Cabbage Patch like Stacey. My granddaughter is half way to four, it is time. I considered a little dish set, play dough and a sled. Lame basics.

While I could not find all the basics, my granddaughter and daughter were missing in a worldwide toy store. We finally met again. I am told they found the perfect present. The entire time the little one had been engrossed with a Thomas and Friends train set. Quietly enthralled and at peace.

Yes, at peace.thomas-and-friends-christmas-story

Imagine what these computer toys do to our children. They make us crazy. Ages one to two, she could not quite press play buttons for music or  pads on some learning games. I felt her solar plexus rage, I want to scream obscenities and shake my computer too. Computer hell at age one.

I witnessed my granddaughter, at age three, bashing the fake cell phone against her palm because the child was speaking plain English and the computerized message was redundant. Come on. We’re going to have a country of really ticked off little kids running around.

But the train is magic. The train touched this child’s heart. I believe it speaks to her of past lives. Take what you need here and leave the rest, that’s okay. I believe the train is a life training tool for her future. A spiritual awakening for work she will bring to this world that touches hundreds of thousands of lives.

Will she be a writer of train history? Photographer or illustrator of books? Programmer of new technology?  An engineer for green-powered locally run trains in our cultural return to ecological sustainability. Will she be involved in the movement that pulls vintage trains from their graveyards to recycle them for the coming age of small communities around North America where the local market is actually local, and community’s wide market narrowed to five-hundred square miles? When engineers and drivers come home evenings. When family is reunited.

The magic train I hid under my huge coat. Yes, I paid for it, smile. But before we could leave the worldwide toy store, my daughter pried our pleading, but courageous and well-mannered little one from the exhibit train’s magical presence. A heart-rending scene without a tantrum.

The miracle happened. We passed a DVD box on a corner shelf three aisles away, completely out of place, at my eye-level, on its back no less. Forlorn and affordable with a ripped corner. Thomas’ smiling face, the movie, a caboose, even a little book. Look, I show my daughter who was beside herself with empathy for her daughter. We smile and turn to the little one. Shall we get this to watch the movie? Yes, she smiled. Daughter and I agreed that the surprise is not worth the heartbreak for a child. We had to be shown how to deal with the rending moment.

My daughter when she was half way to four.

My daughter with Stacey when she was half way to four.

That ripped up box for me is the miracle I watch for every day of my life. I know we are being taken care of because these little conveniences, these little coincidences never cease. But I know they are never coincidences. I know an angel placed the box on that empty shelf. It’s my miracle, I can believe.

As we left the worldwide toy store, Dora and Sponge Bob faded. Eh with them, granddaughter had the train movie. I cannot wait for her to open the magic train.

Merry Christmas Eve to all whenever you read these stories.

Essa Adams, Women’s Fiction blog

shortversionredballsBe sure to read Gracie: The Freezing Fake Christmas Ladybug before you go, then enter the novel giveaway for December.