I’m home from college sitting at the table as my mom is bustling around the kitchen. The garbage bag had slipped and there was a mess outside of the bag in the can. I was commenting on the grossness of the situation and Mom was calmly cleaning it up. “No big deal. It’s just one of those tiny little tragedies of life, Miss. They happen.”

We never had a conversation about that exchange and it was one of the simplest and most profound teachings of my life. The lesson didn’t sink in right then. Some of the best lessons simmer deep inside of us until we’re ready to take them off the heat and digest them. 

“No big deal. It’s just one of those tiny little tragedies of life, Miss. They happen.”

Life isn’t meant to be perfect. Little and large things will not go according to our master plan. Some things are within our control. Many are not.  We don’t always get to choose our challenges, but we can choose how much energy we devote to them. Some unpleasant moments deserve the bare minimum of our attention. 

Mom had clearly evaluated the garbage situation, determined it needed to be cleaned, and no amount of complaining about it was going to make that job enjoyable. She simply got to work and moved on. She saved her energy for more important matters. 

At this stage in life I can see she was probably thrilled that the garbage bag mishap was the dose of tragedy for the day. She had experienced “big T” tragedy as well: her husband was drafted into the VietNam War, she watched her father go blind, she lost a child, her marriage ended, she got cancer. She knew it could be worse. And she knew that her energy was better spent enjoying the fact that this was a good day. No tiny tragedy would change that. 

How often are we giving minor inconveniences or problems more energy than they deserve? Letting our otherwise average or lovely day be thrown off track by something that could be dealt with in a moment and released? 

Despite Mom’s guidance and being in the buisiess of studying my own reactions, I am not immune to all tiny tragedies. I get thrown off track by the burnt cookies, the broken coffee mug, or the lasagna explosion in the oven. I still scream expletives more often than not when I stub a toe. 

And that’s OK. My aim is for progress not perfection.  

There are also times when I get triggered and I pause long enough to remember Mom’s words. “No big deal. It’s just one of those tiny little tragedies of life, Miss. They happen.” In these moments, I picture Mom calmly dealing with the mess and I do the same. I remove the printer jam. I accept that traffic is delayed and I’ll now be late. I pick the olives off the pizza. And then I go back to enjoying the less messy parts of life.