Yesterday was one of those days that becomes a chuckle in response to someone saying how awesome my life is. The Starfish Enterprise 2 is not going to Appalachiacola in April, after all. That’s the third state park rug to be pulled out from under me in eight months. Three and a half if you count me almost getting kicked out of this park because of a snafu. It’s enough to make you seriously question your life choices. Almost.

“It’s like schedule Jenga,” I comment to another volunteer at our campfire happy hour.

“I think you mean Tetris.”

“No . . . I mean Jenga.”

I know it’ll work out. It always does, I’ve surely learned that. And usually better than the thing that fell apart. It’s only a matter of time–which I have very little of because I’m meant to be leaving in ten days. Time I need to sort out my acceptance letter for publication, try to get into Chicken Soup for the Soul (times two), meet a freelance deadline, and write my memoir while taking a class about writing my memoir. I so did not need another ball to juggle.

At the end of my shift today, my numbers weren’t on as I added and compared what the computer said. I’m usually right on so I tend to get upset on the odd occasion that I’m not. But this little voice/feeling very calmly told me not to worry. Just put your credit card slips down and count your cash. So I did. It was off, too. That same voice/feeling directed me to refresh the website, and then they were all on. The answer is always in the peace. The calm is in the eye of the storm.

So I applied the same practice to the up-in-the-air status of my next destination. I turned it over to that calm little voice/feeling. I felt even calmer. No sense in fussin’–even though I’m so darn good at it. The answer will come in the peace. And that peace gets refreshed just like a browser window, by synchronicities . . .

My neighbor’s daughter was over yesterday, telling me she is trying to catch a stray cat. She’s named him Finnegan. As I came out of my chiropractor/magician’s office, feeling reborn and on a whole other plane after our fast-paced and passionate discussions, I look across the street and there’s a church building with ‘Finnegan’ written across it. This was my fifth appointment. I’d never seen it before.

At work I had a park manager need to find me but he’d forgotten his radio. We ran into each other. He’s not someone you easily run into, but he thought about needing to reach me and there I was.

As I walked up to the farmer’s market the musician du jour was playing his own version of “Refugee” by Tom Petty. Tonight at corn hole, that same song comes up on someone’s playlist. Checkpoints.

And then there’s that happy, easygoing feeling I have that seems completely out of place given my circumstances–yet here it is. I sit front and center to some pretty miraculous and magical stuff. I’m out here on my own counting on it, and I wouldn’t be if it hadn’t showed me over and over again that it’s got me. Every time something in the physical realm fails, I rise. I take my rightful place above it all. And every time it falls apart, it frees me up.

“All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen.” Ralph Waldo Emerson