The Way of the Wind

April 10  Embracing Change

The Way of the Wind

In the early 1990s, I penned a ballad titled, The Way of the Wind.
It begins with the first verse:
“Have you noticed a change today?
Not often that you’ll hear me say
It’s too still and that’s not the way of the wind”

Ironically, I had scheduled the title of this week’s blog, Embracing Change, several weeks ago. Who would have predicted that in less than 15 days my refrigerator would break down followed by a sudden storm that would wreak havoc across the Midwest, causing damage to the exterior of my house?

Dear wind, my fickle friend, I love to listen to your whispers and cries, your anthems and operettas, but this time, you drove a few crescendos over the edge, carrying my spouting system with you.

“We have an overwhelming number of people to respond to. Your state has been declared a catastrophic area of storm damage,” said the insurance claims representative. “Okay,” I replied. What else could I say? I’ll wait. I’ve spent the last two weeks without a functioning refrigerator, living on peanut butter sandwiches, soup and fresh fruit. I can do it.

Incidents like these remind us that we can never be completely ready for what’s heading our way around the bend. Some are head on, directly in our path. However, in our hearts and minds there is a safety net, the ability to accept the hands we are dealt and find a way to move on.

Truly embracing change is at a much deeper level. There are blessings received, if you will, lessons learned when you are attentive to how you react to sudden incidents, how you respond in urgent situations. How are you doing? How are you thriving through any adversity? When you embrace change you comprehend that there are just some things that don’t have to be fixed or resolved immediately. Tomorrow really is another day, especially if your plate is full right now.

The spouting isn’t going anywhere. It’s not twisting in the wind, creaking and swinging back and forth. My house doesn’t appear to have been involved in a disaster. The spouting is lying quietly on the ground, even though it appears to be staring back at me when I look at it through the window, as if to ask me what I’m going to do about it.

I’m still sealed up tight with regard to the windows, no heat loss and protected from the cold bitter wind that has exchanged roles with the previous storm. The cold is the most recent change. If it helps to cope, I can convince myself that this is one last chance to appreciate the crispness and briskness, since heat and humidity will be here before we know it. Don’t get me started!