Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Timing

Let’s summarize the past week.  Mere hours after I published my last Wednesday Words, in which I was so proud of my car for coasting across the 200,000 mile mark, someone’s momentary mind farkle resulted in said car landing in the repair shop for the next week (maybe two, based on the last call from the insurance company).  I was patiently waiting at a red light, but the person behind me was not fully concentrating on the task at hand and crashed into me.  I am fine, and my car really didn’t look that bad off, but even a minor fender-bender can result in some hefty repair bills.

This unfortunate turn of events made me think it might be a bit unlucky to gloat about my worldly possessions in my WW blog.  So, I didn’t talk about the accident too much until dealing with the associated appointments made it necessary to take a day off of work and explain my absence.  I accepted a fair settlement for my inconvenience, aches and pains, and missed work on top of the repairs and rental car that will be covered.  Guess what?  The next day the radiator on the other family car goes kaput (the mechanic described it as “hanging on by a paper clip”), and the settlement check is freakishly close to the radiator estimate.  Luck?  Coincidence?  Provision?

So, Mr. Red Suzuki loses focus and hits my car, but has insurance that pays out the extra amount needed to pay for repairs on a different car the same week.  It is not so often that one can connect the dots so neatly.  Usually life is more like Jeff Goldblum’s chaos theory in Jurassic Park: “A butterfly can flap its wings in Peking and in Central Park you get rain instead of sunshine.”  In other words, everything we do impacts everything else, but the distance, time lapse, and intermediary steps make it very hard to see the big picture.

What about this?  Yesterday the boys were delayed in getting back to the Boys and Girls Club from a field trip.  As a result, I had to leave, pick up the girls, come back, get the boys, race to practice, arrive an hour past the start time, and not feed anyone until after practice was over.  Was this a random inconvenience?  Was it intentionally designed such that we would miss some yet unknown disaster, interaction, or opportunity?  What butterfly flapped its wings and why?

As one of my baseball dad friends often says… go marinate!

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