A Gift in the Face

Saturday morning, with some trepidation, I awoke for my first day of ski instructing with real kids.

Throughout the set-up and training, the understanding had been that I would be working with 8-12 year olds, an age group I felt I could really teach well. Disappointment, therefore, was hard to hide when my assignment actually was for kids aged 4-5, visions of glorified daycare.

In my new stance of empowered individual, I expressed my preference for older kids and accepted my assignment with the willingness to be a team player. In the pre-dawn mist of fresh snow, I prepared myself mentally for the task ahead.

To the DVD of Louise Hay affirmations (adding my own assertion that music and writing will sustain me financially), I bent, twisted and stretched to my own flow of Yoga postures. Three weeks without coffee, I meditated with a cup of tea, steeling myself to face the sub-zero temperatures outside and the kids ahead.

My truck started grudgingly in the cold, and I knew enough to let it warm a little as I loaded skis and extra sweaters. By the time I was on the road, the motor was producing heat enough in the cab, I could loosen my hat.

Apparently the oil stayed sluggish and frozen, however, for as I drove a mile on the highway, a strange ticking sound overtook the radio and I considered pulling over to let it all warm a little more. Too late! A soft bang and the truck rolled to rest, broken and unable to start again.

All week in reaction to an outrageous cell phone bill, I had been ranting about how few emergencies actually occur to require a call, but I was grateful for the tool on this morning. I was very stuck with few resources at that early hour to deal with towing to an unknown mechanic and getting back to my own house. The bitter cold crept quickly back inside to numb my brain already shutting down by the dizzying estimates of the impending costs to repair this damage done.

What message is the Universe sending me now, I wondered in exasperation. An exhausted Job-like disciple, I tried to hold faithful to my belief, but it felt like I am working so hard to change bad habits and choices, this cruel blow was not needed to drive me further back.

So tired of living a life of scarcity, I applied for a job this week and made other choices to surrender the habits that keep me unbalanced on the edge of disaster. I need no more trials, troubles or torture; I am searching for solutions.

The tow truck driver dropped me at the only diner, a warm haven, in the commercial district where I left my truck. Amazingly, at the counter, devouring a stack of French toast, was the very friend who had gotten me to my warrior workshop and offered a large embrace in other moments of desperation. Deep conversation, open-hearted advice and compassionate listening warmed the sluggish oil in my soul and gave me hope to continue the day.

Another dear friend gave me rides, companionship to distract me from disparaging thoughts, and bountiful food to nourish my fearful and despairing voice into song. The second hit on her computer turned up a job prospect that could be the perfect transition to a more sustainable future. Another great friend can loan me a truck for the week.

The Universe does, in fact, reward hard lessons with gifts of love and abundance.

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