Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Happy Accidents 1

During a recent move from one city to another after we sold our house, I lost my car keys for my Mustang. They disappeared in our new apartment on a Tuesday: or was it a Wednesday[?], during the first or was it the second week of January. I did not write down the day. Gratefully, I have two vehicles and even more gratefully, the car was parked in the apartment lot, not in the street when this occurred. This was my only key and it was one of those smart keys that cost up to $300 each to replace.  I did not have the money to replace the keys, so until I did, I decided to drive the old Mazda truck. It runs great and gets better mileage than the Mustang anyway. I do not have to tell you which vehicle is more fun and comfortable to drive.

It was now April. Like the two meandering melodies in a Bach fugue, two weeks ago I had an unexpected check arrive in the mail.  Plus, I found my emergency stash of cash in a drawer. Between those two melodic miracles, I had enough money for the keys. I called a locksmith and two hours later had a shiny brand new key for the discount price of $185. The third miracle: it was less than $300!



Synchronicity is an amazing thing. A few days after I had the key made, I was discussing this with John and explaining to him what a “Happy Accident” was. I reached up on a bookshelf to show him my first ever raku[1] fired piece of pottery. 

Now potters consider unexpected glaze outcomes of pots, “Happy Accidents” from the Japanese traditional potters’ lore. At least that was the lore in the pottery studio in which I used to work. Thus any raku pottery can be considered a Happy Accident. The result is always unknown, and most of the time, beautiful. 

I picked my handmade pot up from the bookshelf and discovered my car keys had fallen into the pot. Here’s the synchronicity: the Happy Accident of finding my keys, inside the Happy Accident of a beautiful raku pot, occurred while I was explaining what a Happy Accident is. 

It was a magical moment and resulted in a stunned silence from me.  I decided “Happy Accident” is the absolute perfect title for the next parts of the tale of John's recovery.





Since the tragedy of John’s stroke has long since disappeared for us, we daily view it as the gift of a Happy Accident.  Dear reader, I hope you’re not stunned by this honest revelation right now. The positive lessons that have been given to both John and I as a result of his CVA are incredible, and multitudinous. I will share many of these gifts. The gifts are a result of the Happy Accident. It is really about sharing a lot of lemonade with you that has been made and enjoyed between the two of us through the past twenty-three years. As you read this blog, my hope is that you will be able to discover the Happy Accidents in your life as you meet the challenges of living with a brain damaged or handicapped person. Like a finely crafted Mozart piano sonata, each Happy Accident has become a part of the gracious melody of our journey.








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