We moved in just over a week ago, when the renos on the condo were mostly finished.
“Just a couple of hiccups,” I said when people would ask about the work being done. Hiccups like not enough floor to finish my bedroom or only enough tiles to finish half the backsplash in my kitchen.
“Minor hiccups,” my contractor, Wally, kept saying. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
I’ve become convinced over the past few months that the universe has been teaching me to have more patience. I’ve never been an overly patient person, and impulsiveness seems to be something that I succumb to easily.
I have a hard time working around other peoples timelines and schedules. People have suggested before that I require instant gratification, that I want immediate results. I’m guilty of this, I know this to be true. It’s not always about me, I keep reminding myself.
Patience. I’m trying hard to slow down, relax, wait for it to be my turn.
A few weeks ago, I went to the IABC conference and attended the closing keynote, given by Hayley Wickenheiser.
I felt that familiar nudge. “Pay attention to her,” I heard from within myself and I sat up a little taller.
Hayley talked about training for the Olympics, about digging a little deeper, about blooming where you’re planted. How you’ll simply DIE if you’re not willing to change or adapt. All of it resonated within me, when I thought about how hard the past few months have been.
Dig a little deeper. Seriously. Head down, get things done. Oh, how I’ve been digging.
But then, then she said something else and all of a sudden, everything just made sense. How you have to control the things you CAN and let go of the things you CAN’T. How at some point, you had to start trusting that all the hours – the sweat and the tears – you’ve spent preparing for something that matters – all that work pays off. But first you have to trust.
So I did.
I let go of what I couldn’t control.
I trusted that the Wally would come through on the work and deadlines that I had given him. That my reno supplies would show up when I needed them, if I could just be a little more patient. They did; and Wally did.
I trusted that the people that had said they’d help me move, would, and they did. Oh, how they did. #love
I trusted that all the measurements that I did of the condo and my existing furniture and the floor plans and sketches I kept obsessively drawing would turn out to be accurate – that things would fit they way I visualized them fitting. And they did, perfectly. #trust
I wouldn’t say that I’ve been drowning the past couple of months, but absolutely, I’ve been struggling through all of this. Treading water in what has been very decidedly choppy waves.
“You can do this,” I’ve told myself on more than one occasion.
“Dig a little deeper,” Hayley said. “And let go. Trust.”
So I have.
And last week, I made it back into the office after being off for six days to finishing packing, cleaning, cleaning, cleaning, unpacking, getting settled.
On both Thursday and Friday, I arrived at the office, in heels (my Merrill flip flops, as comfy as they are, have been killing my arches; it seems my feet have become accustomed to the curve of a delicate high heel), my hair down and curly and just a little out of control (it’s been so carefully contained in messy buns on top of my head). I was back in dresses too, both days; finally, my ripped jeans and grimy t-shirts tossed on my closet floor, where my mom (love her) would swoop them into the wash when I wasn’t looking.
It’s been a long hard lesson in learning to be patient, and every time I feel my patience slipping, the universe nudges me to look up. Usually, I’m rewarded with a sunset, or a beautiful morning sky.
The clouds from my bedroom window, where I feel I’m floating in the sky.
Sometimes, it’s Clara, sleeping next to me. “Mama, can I share your pillow?” I’ve heard her sleepy little voice ask, within the last week. And, “can you cover me up?” as she nestles into my side.
But sometimes, if I take the time and I look long enough, sometimes the reward is me looking up, and looking back.
She was right about everything, Hayley was. About digging deeper, adapting to change, trusting that my hard work would pay off. Because it has.