Those who know me well, recognize that I have a strong streak of independence. Thus, you will perhaps appreciate that the universe has been delivering some strong messages to me about the fact that we humans are dependent upon one another.
The messages began to arrive in late August. I cut my left thumb while framing for my September Ancestral Lines show. A neighbor’s quick thinking got me to urgent care for five stitches by a female doctor from Barbados. Several wondrous friends stepped in to help me hang the show. I was filled with gratitude for my neighbor’s thoughtfulness, the medical care I received, and the compassion of my friends.
Then, in the fading light of an October evening, a curb and I had a miscommunication, my right ankle wrenched and I landed with a yelp on the cement parking lot. Three college students and a friend rescued me and got me started on RICE, rest, ice, compression and elevation. My seriously sprained right ankle has been in an air cast and I've been using a walking stick for the last month. In spite of the pain and stress, I am so grateful not to have broken any bones and for the wonderful care I received from friends, medical practitioners, and a young physical therapist.
The restorative power of physical therapy made me more stable and I was just celebrating being able to put away the walking stick, when the universe decided to upend my life in yet another way.
Early on Monday, as I was tending my plants, a water pipe in the upstairs bathroom broke and water began gushing out of the wall. Plumbing Dummy that I am, I threw down some towels to soak the water and raced for help. My neighbor’s light was on so I banged on her door. She grabbed some shoes, raced up my stairs, tramped through four inches of water and turned the water off.
Together we threw down all the blankets, sheets, and towels we could find to soak up the water. We stopped the water from going into the room where all of my finished paintings are stored, but gravity is an irresistible force. Water flowed down the walls to the downstairs bathroom and dining area. I spotted water pouring through the light fixture above the kitchen counter. I pushed aside my computer modem and threw a quilt over the counter. My friend and I tossed more towels on the downstairs bathroom floor to catch the water running down the wall.
Having done as much as we could, I tried desperately to find a plumber. When references from my neighbor and another friend produced nothing, I turned to the yellow pages. I called the company with the most professional advertisement and lucked out. He would arrive in less than an hour. Once the pipe was fixed, his knowledge of restoration professionals proved as important as his plumbing skills. We could have a team on site within another hour.
Next on the docket was the insurance claim, something else about which I had no previous knowledge. As I launched into what would become a day of phone calls with insurance representatives, the restoration crew arrived: two young men, one an ex-Marine and the other from the navy. Great, I thought; they will know about water. And they did.
I appreciated the way they began assessing and documenting the damage before crafting a restoration plan. When flashes of Katrina and the various earthquakes of the past two years visited me, I was aware that what I was experiencing did not even begin to compare with what others have endured. I was grateful for having lesser issues with which to contend.
As the marine team began releasing carpet edges so they could direct heat from drying fans underneath, they recommended that I go to a hotel. I saw the wisdom in their suggestion. However, I opted to remain in my home, at least for now. Yes, the noise from the fans is very loud, making it difficult to sleep. But it is probably no more difficult than trying to sleep in a strange hotel room where I would have no idea what was happening in my home.
They warned me that today the bathroom fixtures would be removed because both floors and some walls have to be restored. Then it will be one to two months before everything is shipshape. As I contemplate the disruptions and discomforts of the upcoming weeks, I am nevertheless once again filled with gratitude. In a world where children go to sleep hungry, elderly people find themselves isolated, and rocket fire keeps thousands wondering if they will greet the sunrise, I have been given so much. I have a job. I have a home. I have been blessed with awesome friends.
It would be nice if I could somehow send a memo to the universe that I wouldn’t mind having fewer reminders of just how lucky I am. However, for now I shall just allow gratitude to be my overwhelming message.
