Embrace Your Path

Something on Wednesday told me to confirm the 8pm Line Dance class I was hired to teach for a bachelorette party last night.  The first email from the owner said "Yes, see you then."  Then I received another email saying, "Let me call them to confirm."  Then the third email, "No."

It was a strange occurrence.  His "organizer" went "outside the box" and hired another gal to teach.  Apparently she didn't realize that the owner had already contracted me and that I, another instructor, even existed and was on his contact list.  He mentioned not wanting to "cause ripples."

It was strange indeed.  I thought about it throughout the day, because it was fewer than 24 hour notice and why wouldn't the owner's agreement supersede the organizer's?  Why, if he had contracted me almost two weeks ago, was that null and void?

It just bugged me.

So around 7:45pm last night when, had plans gone according to the schedule of the morning,  I would have been doing a final review of my dance choices and getting ready to start the lesson with the squealing, giggling, jumpy bachelorette and her gal pals, I said my prayer of thanks over the meal we were sitting down to eat instead.

I said to the universe, "Okay, so today's events were a little strange and I don't get it, it's not that obvious to me.  For some reason, I am meant to be here and not there.  I trust in my path lined with daisies, satin, soft rounded stones and filled with flowing water.  Thank you for looking out for me."

A few bites into our take and bake pizza and salad filled with gems from our garden and hard-boiled pearls from our hens, I heard the goats crying.  It was filled with panic, with urgency and it was so loud, it seemed to be right outside the window.  We jumped up from the table, jumped into the golf cart and raced over to the barn.

Shadow came out to the gate crying for help.  There was Pippin with his head stuck in the metal hay feeder, screaming for help.  And he was screaming.  It was the kind of scream that bypassed your ears and went straight to your gut.

Fortunately, he is just tall enough that he didn't strangle himself; however, he was on his tippy toes avoiding such an ill-fate.  I lifted him up and Larry maneuvered his head out from between the bars.

The bars on the feeder are wider on top and narrower to the bottom.  I am sure he was standing on his hind legs to get to the hay and slipped in and when he went down, he was then between the narrow bars.  When the feeder is full of hay, his feet rest against the pack of forage.  They had eaten almost all of the hay, so there was nothing to push him back.

We returned to the house and sat back down.  My appetite was interrupted.  I looked up at the clock and it was 8:12pm. 

I once again looked up, but toward the sky, closed my eyes, and once again thanked the universe for lighting my path.