On the first day of every month, in the calendar on my phone, there is an all-day event: Clean coffee pot. Inevitably, I move this event to the next day and the next…and often end up accepting I am not the person I strive to be and delete it from my calendar entirely, the task left incomplete.

Don’t get me wrong – I wash the components of the coffee maker – the carafe, the basket, the reusable filter – more often than once a month. This task is meant to be running white vinegar and water through the machine to descale and keep our coffee tasting as it should. But it just doesn’t happen every month, try as I might to motivate myself with that calendar event.

But yesterday – the second day of the month! – I completed this task. It took me a few steps, as Covid exhaustion is still slowing my body more than I’d like. But the task was complete, the components of the coffee pot drying on the counter for fresh, delicious coffee this morning.

I was sitting on the couch last night when I heard it – CRASH! –

Eric had opened the cupboard above where our dishes dry, and my yeti travel mug betrayed me. It fell, perfectly onto the coffee carafe – the clean, drying coffee carafe – and shattered it into a million pieces.

If at any time on this journey, you have thought: “I’d like to buy Holly a cup of coffee”, this week would be a great time.

It’s an interesting reminder that life doesn’t always let us reap the benefits of our efforts. It is unpredictable, and sometimes, something we worked really hard on just breaks into a million pieces, through no fault of our own.

And what choice did we have? In this case, Eric worked to clean every tiny bit of glass off the kitchen counter and floor, to be sure more damage was not done – the glass shards could pierce our skin and cause more pain.

I suppose there is a beautiful metaphor in that, as well. When life smashes into something you’ve worked hard on, you can decide to just sit in that place – allow the pieces to cut and wound you, time and time again – or you can choose to sweep it up and away, toss it aside, and start over. Make a new plan. Pivot.

I have gotten so good at the pivot.

Sometimes – maybe far too often – I sit in the mess, trying to make it work still when I know it’s shattered beyond repair. I have stayed in situations that cut me and hurt me, again and again, because I was stubborn and determined to make it work. After all, I had worked so hard on the task.

It’s better to drink our coffee without the glass.