loss

This is a reprise of one of the more popular posts from earlier this year.
Have a wickedly great Saturday!
xoxJ

I have a slogan for when things get messed up: Wait for the turnaround.
~Debbie Harry~lead singer of the punk rock band Blondie
(If you don’t know that – shame on you)

I’ve always been a “fix it” kinda gal.

If you present me with a problem or a mess, I’m gonna brainstorm it until I find a solution.

I’m going to fight it and wrestle it to the ground, I rarely take NO for an answer, and everything is figuraoutable.

I’d like to think I’m a lot like Debbie Harry…in more ways than one.
Truth is, I have waited for the turnaround…after I have exhausted every other option known to man – and then some.

Then I wised up.

I bet that wasn’t her slogan at 25 or even 35.
That’s the kind of wisdom you gain with maturity; the end result of many, many, many, mess ups.

Fifty – I’m going to guess that she came to that epiphany after fifty.
It’s around that age that you realize that there can even BE a turnaround.
That there will ALWAYS be a turnaround.

After fifty THIS you know for sure: You have to pick yourself up off the bathroom floor to be ready for the turnaround.

You have to make it until the sun comes up, because in the deep, suffocating blackness of 3am, you can’t even imagine a turnaround.

That you have to get sober to start the turnaround.

That tears make your eyes that much more capable of seeing the turnaround.

That sometimes you have to be alone, inside the silence, to listen for the turnaround.

That your wounded heart, with its bandages and skid marks, has to open enough to let the love in.
That love – is hidden in the turnaround.

Note to self:Look away.
The turnaround doesn’t reside anywhere near the mess, so if you stay digging around in that pile of shit, it will allude you.

You can’t stalk the turnaround, you can’t cajole it. You can’t bargain with it, or coerce it into place. AND……you certainly can’t rush it.

Believe me, I’ve tried.

When things are messed up. When they are epically trashed. There WILL be a turnaround. History has proven it.
It comes in its own time. It can take years or days or even just hours. Look at every disaster, natural and man made. Things appear bleak, all hope is lost, but eventually the dust settles and in rides…….the turnaround. Remember 9/11?
We were in shock, then despair, then pissed off, then….wait for it…we emerged stronger and more united than ever.
Humongous, miraculous, turnaround.

You gotta love Debbie Harry. Gorgeous, Sexy, smart, 70’s-80’s rock star icon and a guru after 50. Just like me. 😉
I bet she never thought she’d be quoted in a spiritual blog. There’s a first time for everything…even for you; Debbie Harry.

Tell me about a big turnaround in your life. I’d love to hear about it.

Xox

The dictionary defines a miracle as 
a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency.
I’ll agree with that.
A miracle also makes your hair stand on end and your heart beat faster,
Or a least it does that to me!

The first miracle occurred not too long after I arrived at my store to find it
ankle deep in a slimy, sludgy, mud, which was the lovely parting gift the flood had left me.
I was walking around in circles with my mouth hanging open.
Oh…
I mean I was professionally assessing the damage.
You really do go numb, like the people say on the evening news when something
awful has just happened to them. You CANNOT believe it is happening to you!

The file cabinet behind my desk had filled with water, so I was peeling 
apart my insurance papers to find the number to call, to get the adjuster here quick!
This was 6:30 am the Sunday of Labor Day weekend.
Good luck with that!
When I did finally reach him, he said he was away for the weekend and he would get back to me Tuesday, like my toilet had overflowed or something.
I told him to watch the news.
Crews were everywhere by this time, waiting to get in.

Now, the fire department had caution taped the shit out of the entire block,
and they were doing some cleanup on the street, so we had to prove we were the owners to even be allowed near the place.

I was inside for about 30 minutes when a scruffy, middle aged man walks into the store and starts looking around.
He’s shaking his head and doing that tisking sound.
I’m on my phone, looking for a flood cleanup company, but I ask him what he’s doing.
He keeps looking around with his hands on his hips.
Then I ask him nicely to “get the hell out”.
As he’s leaving he mumbles something like “your insurance is never going to 
understand and pay you for your this stuff, it’s too esoteric”.
My husband and I say at the same time “hey, what did you say”?

He explains that they’ll deny the claim because flooding is subjective, and even if they don’t, they won’t pay. 
He says I’m in for a long fight.
He recommends I call a Public Adjuster. They will take over everything and deal with the insurance company. For a fee of course.
What?!
It’s now after 7 and I’m starting to feel panicky.
I’ve never even heard of such a person, and ask him for a recommendation.
He used a certain company and gives me the name, but he says there are several
And I should call a few.

I’m writing furiously on some wet muddy paper, and when I look up…he’s gone.
I run out to get him so he can tell the other merchants what he just told me.
He’s nowhere to be found.
When I describe him to the fireman they have no idea who I’m talking about!

Several friends I’d called to come get a load of what’s happened, had to call me to come get them past the security line, but somehow this guy showed up and gave me the information I needed.
I enie , meenie, miney, moe and pick one company out of the three names I found.

Gary was there in an hour, fired the cleanup crew that was walking around clueless, hired some pros that specialize in art and antiques and got the whole thing under control.
He was professional and comforting, and knew exactly what to do.
Ten percent sounded like a bargain, I would have paid him a million dollars at that point.
For the first time that day I took a deep breath, and started to cry.

Oh, and my scruffy, middle aged angel? He was exactly right! When the adjuster came on WEDNESDAY!!….he denied the claim.
He said “flooding” was open to interpretation, and I didn’t have flood insurance anyway.
But that was okay, I had Gary.

We were in for a long fight.

Xox Janet
(To be continued)