Thunderstorms & Lemonade
On our crazy Austin move-out (and when to surrender)
My muscles turned to goop and I flopped on the couch with relief. After a flurry of packing, calling, coordinating, picking up, and dropping off, Jackie and I took a break from the logistics of our Austin move-out to hang with a friend.
We were robotic operators, living on a spreadsheet of tasks — fighting against finite time and energy. Our sabbatical was about to start, but we didn’t have space to feel its unfolding excitement yet.
Our friend’s apartment was sane and clean – a stark contrast to our box-filled reality. Our muscles relaxed, welcomed the laughter, and embraced the simple moment of friendship. In the momentary bliss, we turned towards our phones as they began to vibrate and sound an emergency weather alert.
The Storm
There was a summer thunderstorm coming. Hail and heavy rain was on the way, along with tornado-like winds. The alert ended with a plea for everyone to take shelter, and ended on an ominous note:
People and animals outside will be injured.
The winds had already picked up on our drive home and deep clouds darkened the already-night sky. We had just gotten the car detailed that day, ready for its impending sale.
We pulled into the garage, and found that all of the usual covered parking was taken. A knot formed in my stomach. I didn’t want the soon-to-be-sold car to be dented by hail.
The little Subaru found its way to the last covered spot in the garage.
Rain poured relentlessly for a half hour, the sky roared with thunder and lightning. Golf-ball sized hail descended, sounding like an angry horde of imps knocking on the glass windows.
We breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the car was safe.
Or was it?
Shit happens
The next morning, when I jumped in the car, I hit the brakes at a stoplight. All was well, except… I heard a sloshing. And my heels, resting in sandals, were wet. I looked down in disbelief. Heading back home, I laughed to myself, recounting the situation:
Our move out date loomed large.
I was in a concrete container surrounded by cardboard boxes — a space that didn’t feel like much of a home anymore.
We didn’t know if we’d be traveling with our cat or if she would be adopted.
The AC was leaking, perhaps from the storm.
The car needed to be sold, and was full of water.
Lemons
Within the madness of my laughter, I saw clearly: life had thrown me a good ol’ lemon. I was a crazed animal, desperate to control everything. I tried to shepherd every life happening into the confines of a spreadsheet. I craved certainty.
The great irony is that this narrow-minded, constantly planned, sterile way of being was the very mindset I wanted to escape by going on sabbatical. And here I was, at the dawn, steeped in its clutches.
There was no storm on the spreadsheet. What the heck, God?
So, I laughed and I stared at that lemon. It was time to make lemonade.
I surrendered completely to whatever the All-Knowing had in store. It’s incredibly hard to write about the click that occurred in my mind. In a mix of empowered motivation and shocking clarity, I saw how I had tightened the reins on life beyond my realization. Letting go was the obvious thing to do.
Possibilities blossomed as soon as I stopped trying to dictate the future. The spreadsheet no longer defined my life.
Things happened:
The car got sold at a better-than-expected price (considering some electronics were damaged from flooding).
We found our cat a loving home with a friend.
The move-out was remarkably smooth.
We got a great deal on our tickets to KL after having to rebook them.
Surrender creates space for all of the unexpected wonders in our life. If we live with tight shoulders and firm grips on everything in our life, how can we deal with any difficult situation? How will we solve our problems if we’re so fixated on a particular solution, with no room for inspiration to edge in?
When life gives us lemons, let’s make lemonade — where tartness and sweetness are a harmonious elixir.
Have you felt empowered by surrender? Share in the comments or hit reply!
Snap of the Week
Oh man, having done my own major move, this was super relatable! Moving is just a bunch of tiny unpredictable things. I'm happy you were able to turn lemons into lemonade and it all worked out.