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Monday, November 5, 2018

Signs (H/t to Ace of Base)

I believe in signs.

Driving home from getting the kids flu shots, we heard the song "The Sign" by Ace of Base on the radio. Whenever I hear this song, it brings me back to college Spring Break in Cancun. My 13yo knows it well from the movie Pitch Perfect (she is a big fan) so it was a fun song to have on for us. After the song was over, I changed stations only to hear "The Sign" again! Granted, in the DC area, we have a strange preponderance of "old people stations" per my children, but still! What are the chances?

I immediately thought of our priest's winding homily last weekend where he wore a blindfold and held a football (long story) and talked about blindspots and listening for signs.

Okay, this was a sign of some sort that was actually labeled "The Sign." What was I supposed to do?

I decided that it was time to finally extricate myself from one of my extra volunteer commitments that I was not able to fulfill well since it was low on my priority list and that I carried guilt about. It no longer brought me joy. So, later that week, I stepped down from my role. And...deep exhale. It's done! I do feel a tiny bit lighter. I know that I need to pare down my commitments some more, but this was a good start.

Which brings to me to a story of another sign.

So, my daughter's school soccer team is in the playoffs. I was deeply conflicted since their first playoff game was scheduled for the night that I needed to leave for a conference in TX. Couldn't get a later flight than 7:30pm. I had to be in for an important Friday morning meeting. I was so bummed I'd miss her play, and then if they won, I'd then miss their semifinal game on Saturday as well.

When I arrived at the airport garage on Thursday, I joined a huge mass of people waiting for the shuttle to the terminal (apparently they had been there for awhile without service) and checked my phone. My flight was delayed by 2 hours. I looked at the time. 40 minutes until the playoff game started. Really? Could I make it? I did some rapid calculations and decided that I could make the majority of the game. Maybe I could even check-in my luggage now so I can just cruise in later with my TSA precheck!

Hustled back to car. Drove to Hourly Garage. Found a spot. Booked it into terminal. Self-checked bag (thanks Southwest), asked attendant the likelihood that my delayed flight would actually board earlier (answer: very unlikely), booked it back to car, drove the 35 minutes to the high school and got there 6 min into game. There was a big crowd of support for our team there. Many of the girls on the team had painted their faces - such spirit! My daughter was looking great in the goal. She made an amazing save, tipping a ball that was certainly headed in, out of bounds. It was thrilling to watch them play and awesome to be there! (And slightly weird knowing my bags were checked in at the airport and I really needed to catch my flight.) The team was up by 4 goals, it was well into 2nd half, and it was time for me to get back to catch my plane. I jogged out of there, got into my car, and my husband texted me: [daughter] is out. To much accolade. Coach had put in the 2nd goalkeeper with 10 min to go. By the time I got to the airport, I had confirmation that they won!

I sailed to the shuttle, through security, grabbed dinner to go, and got to gate as they were lining up to board. It was intense, slightly crazy, and totally worth it. What's more, the semifinal game on Saturday was canceled due to rain so I missed nothing.

It did all work out. And it did feel entirely meant to be.

3 comments:

  1. I believe in signs, too! So happy everything worked out perfectly - way to follow your gut.

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  2. Your post made me so happy! So awesome it all worked out- And good luck at the next playoff game!

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  3. Good for you for stepping back - trying to do this myself more often. Sounds like a fantastic day that was well worth the running around. And now The Sign has been stuck in my head since first reading this post 😝 which is not a terrible thing.

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