Shoulds

“You should probably open that tonight,” he said as he stood on my front porch handing me a large sealed can labeled “Flour” after one of not quite a dozen dates. It was from the service project we’d participated in that night—preparing flour for food storage at the local church cannery. Since it was prepared to be stored, I didn’t anticipate it going bad any time soon, but it seemed a little suspicious. What, did he expect me make him cookies?

I’d been getting bored, and honestly thought this was probably the last date with him because his personality just seemed too serious, but I did open that can later that night. Inside the can, where I should have seen white powder was a single stargazer lily in a small green vase.

I love a good pun.

It was enough to keep me interested to the present day.

Should. There’s no other word that inspires more achievement. After all, should is the word that leads to goal setting—I should exercise more. “Should” produces movements—we should take care of the homeless.

Yet at the same time, there’s no other word that creates more aching. For example, some people think:

My husband should be more like hers.

We should have more money.

I should be there right now.

My child should be normal.

We surround ourselves with shoulds day in and day out, both positive and negative.

I suppose it’s all because of expectations, and I learned something about those that night with the stargazer lily.

I expected flour to be in the can because it was clearly labeled “Flour”. I thought maybe he expected me to make him cookies, when all he expected was a smile and hopefully another date.

If things had been as they should have been, with flour in the can clearly labeled “Flour”. . . we would have missed out on thirteen years plus forever of growing together to be better people.

I guess what I’m saying is that when you let go of some shoulds, some pretty awesome things can happen.

The Unknown

I’ve been thinking about the unknown. There’s been a lot of that lately, hasn’t there? What I’m trying to figure out though, is why some unknowns are dreaded and others are anticipated.

You know, they say that the best part of a vacation is planning it and waiting for it to arrive. In that example, you have an idea of what’s going to happen, but you don’t exactly, and you can’t wait to experience it all! Even if things don’t fall into your precise itinerary, you know it’s going to be good.

But then, for me at least, before Monday morning even comes around, the dread of another week back in reality is there strong and sharp on Sunday night. It’s kind of similar; you have an idea of what’s going to happen, but you don’t exactly, and you just wish it would all go away. Even if things don’t go terribly, you know it’s not going to be great.

Sure, one situation is fun and the other situation is slightly mundane, but that doesn’t mean that fun situations are immune to bummers and mundane situations are free from laughter. They’re both unknown.

So what makes the difference? Is it mindset? Perspective? Prior experience?

I think that maybe the difference is hope.

Dread tricks your mind into thinking that positive change cannot and will not happen.

A vacation? That’s a change for the better and it’s full of hope.

The daily grind? That’s the usual, and it seems like it’s never going to change.

Realizing that positive change is possible—maybe not immediately—but that it is possible?

That’s a choice.

Choose hope.

Petrichor

Petrichor. It’s the scent after rainfall. You can only sense it after rainfall. The scent does not exist in fog or snow. You can’t get it from the hose or a glass of water. And though many candle and air freshening manufacturers may wish otherwise, it just cannot be replicated. Rainbows? The best ones are after rain, but you can also see them other times—like through a glass prism, or when the spray of the sprinklers dances with the sun. Petrichor? Only after rain.

It’s funny. I’ve never cared for rain much, and I’ve been known on some gloomy days to hide under the blankets. But that scent after the rain? I realize I’m not alone in saying that it’s one of my favorites. It’s invigorating and comforting at the same time. Refreshing.

My friends and I laugh at how much we love this COVID-19 world, and how much we hate it.

My storm is the pressure I feel trying to be in so many places at the same time—playing with my kids, working, and teaching my daughter second grade. But I LOVE the slower pace that also comes with this type of living. That’s my petrichor.

My storm is social distancing. But I LOVE feeling so united. That’s my petrichor.

My storm is how irritated I feel by so much whining and so many requests throughout the day. But I LOVE spending so much time with my favorite people. That’s my petrichor.

My storm is the absence of weekly dates with my husband. But I LOVE having him home so much. That’s my petrichor.

My storm is spending so much time in my house. But I LOVE my home. That’s my petrichor.

Petrichor. The loveliness only comes after the gloom. Sometimes the rain falls slowly and gently, and other times the showers come violently with upsetting lightning and thunder. But always, there is petrichor.

What’s your storm? What’s your petrichor?