Have you ever had a day, a week, a month in which the world seems slightly schizophrenic?

Yep. Me too.

I am trying to remember my reactions (or lack thereof) to things are more important, many times, than the “thing” that is actually happening. That the things happening might be meant for my learning. It is less about the “thing” and more about what I get out of it, wisdom-wise. Can I be more patient, less irritated, kinder, less snarky?

This is not easy.

Because I find my reactions vary widely. In one moment, I appear a good-hearted Buddha of a gal and in the next, I am swearing like a banshee at the driver who nearly crashed his car into mine.

I strive for more consistency.

As I marvel at my world this week . . .

We live in a world where:

The woman riding shotgun in the car next to mine screams things I cannot hear through her window and flips me the bird because—well, I’m not sure why. She looks a little deranged and angry. That could be why. Just her general disposition. Or, could be she is unhappy I am passing the car she is in. I really don’t care. I just hate that my 10-year-old gets to witness all of this from the backseat of my car.

And yet, just days before . . .

I was brought to tears at a red light as I saw a young woman in a rundown car pull to the side of the road. She handed the homeless man at the highway exit a bag of McDonald’s. Said something to him with the kindest look in her eyes. Not Pollyanna, not even close. But real. From the heart. He did not really respond, but took the bag. She got in her car and drove away.  And my teen got to witness this scene.

Same world? Yes. Insane, right?

We live in a world where:

My youngest brings me breakfast in bed on a weekday. Sets his alarm and gets up awfully early to bring me toast dripping with butter and jelly, along with something that looks like cantaloupe but is actually raw butternut squash I had stored in cubes in the refrigerator for my dinner. He has also made me coffee. He says, “Mom, I just thought you needed this because you’ve been working so hard. Thank you for all you do.” And I see a future for him that is just so bright for some lucky woman.

Yet, just the night before . . .

“I will never, ever take this dog out again. Ever. This time and never again.” Said as he slams the door and takes our Lab out before bed. And I think sadly about how he came to be so sassy about chores.

Not just same world, but same 24-hour period. Sheesh.

We live in a world where:

My mail carrier ignores or conveniently “loses” the form I fill out asking for delivery of certified mail on a certain day. It is tax time and this is an important document. I end up begging a worker at the post office to dig it out of some black hole for me two weeks later. This is the same mail carrier who leaves all the heavy items for his Friday substitute. And puts a notice in my door about how the walk needs to be properly shoveled. I think I’ll ask him to put that notice wherever he left my important tax document.

And yet, a couple of weeks ago . . .

I had my plumber over to replace a leaking garbage disposal. Knowing I am not the most mechanical type, he drove to the store, bought what I needed, got me the warranty, installed it and smiled throughout it all. He petted my dog, chatted away and then fixed a leaky water sprayer in my upstairs bathroom. And charged me so much less than what most commercial plumbers do.

Same world. Totally different experiences. One makes me wonder why people choose not to do their jobs well and the other makes me see that you can shine even in the most unglamorous job. One makes my blood boil while the other warms my heart.

I cannot control other cars or their occupants. Nor can I control my children’s mood swings or how well someone chooses to do their job.

So I’m just working on controlling my reactions to these things. Ideally, not really to react at all. Just to be in the moment, where I am, and respond accordingly (mainly to the good stuff).

I try to believe there are more women buying food for the homeless than screaming obscenities out their car windows.

I don’t really know if this is true. I’d like it to be.

I’d like to think that my son will be as unfailingly human as I am but his thoughtful side will win out more often than not.

At least, that’s what we strive for, right? All of us.

I try to do my own job to the best of my ability, knowing that is no guarantee of anything. It’s just the right thing to do.

We live in a world where none of this is certain and it all coexists.

Which, in an odd way, makes me hopeful for the change that may come. Hopefully is already coming. As we all take more responsibility for our own bit of it—driver or passenger, mailman or plumber, mother or son.

It seems the sane choice in an insane world.