Shards

It was stormy and windy last night and when I came down this morning, our umbrella was by the side of the house and our patio table had blown over, dumping all of its contents on the stone pavers. The delicate pots of impatiens I had planted were broken, the luminarias were strewn about, a small blue vase that my daughters used to gather fallen buds from the trees had shattered.

I felt...sick. Honestly, it looked like some horrible act of destruction had been wreaked on my little patio.

I sat with my coffee and felt so sad.

Resigned, I put on my sneakers and I went out to address the carnage.

I righted the table and chased the umbrella.  I picked up the chairs and stepped back.  Really, the mess wasn't so bad.  I picked up the luminarias and then found that the only really damage was the two Italian ceramic pots that held impatiens.

(Warning: Big Metaphor for Life Ahead:)  Isn't it amazing that what seemed like an insurmountable, depressing tragedy turned out to be only a small bit of damage under scrutiny?  And that by taking each piece of the mess and examining what needed to be done to each piece, the work needed to reclaim my patio was actually not so overwhelming?

Today, I'm going to concentrate on taking baby steps in reclaiming the joy of my life.