Perspective is an interesting thing. I've been running around like a chicken with its head cut off* for the past week or so. My son's Bar Mitzvah is a week from Saturday and in a little more than a week, family and friends will descend on us from all over the country to celebrate. As much as we are keeping the event focused and low-key, there are still a plethora (man, I love that word!) of details to manage.
Then there's my son's stress level, which seems to climb a little higher every day.
Every morning I wake up and scratch out a new to-do list from the remains of yesterday's list.
Coinciding with the general craziness of the "Big Event", was the news that my agent has submitted my novel to 5 publishing houses. I must have been floating a few inches off the floor for days after she told me. I am now one step closer to my lifelong dream of publication.
I spent some time yesterday quietly freaking out with some friends and one of them pointed out how lucky I was to have these things to worry about. She simultaneously punctured my emotional balloon and helped me gain the perspective I needed.
To worry about good things is a blessing. I let myself get so caught up in the worrying, I forgot to breathe and stay in the moment.
I can't control what the weather will be on May 9th. It's not up to me if out of town travelers run into delays or guests arrive to temple late. None of this is up to me.
It's also not in my power to make any of the editors love and buy my book. I already did my part in writing the best novel I knew how to write at the time. I worked hard at it, edited it and incorporated others' suggestions to the best of my ability, keeping true to the story as I saw it. I am proud of "The House of Many Doors." It will have to stand on its own.
I am proud of my youngest son. When he stands up at Temple and sings his haftorah, he will not have me coaching or nagging him anymore. It is up to him and I will celebrate his accomplishment and his hard work.
So despite the myriad of details that remain, I am curiously calm this morning. Perhaps it is only a momentary balance, but I will treasure it.
* As a city/suburban gal, I have never actually seen a chicken with its head cut off, so I have no idea how they run around. Funny that we use so many turns of phrases that we have no personal connection to.