Some Good

Let me tell you a really good story. It has pictures.

Once upon a time a fair maiden was pounding out a butter block for croissants with the handleless, silicone rolling pin she bought in Paris. (Duh, all good stories begin with butter.) She was sobbing and trying to wipe her nose with the sleeve of her shirt while she channeled her anger into that poor butter. Fair Maiden's friend, Blue-Eyed Becca, sat listening on a bar stool on the other side of the butter.

On and on Fair Maiden cried about how frustrated she was. Fair Maiden had surmised back in December when the IVF failed that her body needed to get physically stronger if it was ever going to carry twins a baby. She had since dedicated four months to hot yoga and positivity. Then Maiden threw her back out, was stuck in bed for a week, and suddenly found herself defeated by every stumbling block she stubbed her toe on. Physical limitations made Maiden feel stunted and weak and scared that she'd never have the core power to grow humans inside of herself.

Blue-Eyed Becca nodded and listened with her perfect princess posture. Then she told Fair Maiden of some personal nightmares she had lived through herself and testified of the bit of advice her sister Emily had given her. The advice was this: SOME GOOD. Emily told her that through every difficulty we encounter there is some good to be found.

The croissants turned out beautifully. It's amazing what a box and a half of butter can do.

I have mused on the theory of SOME GOOD for over two months now. Was there some good in throwing my back out? Was there some good in life knocking me over and placing me back at START? Yes. I have found SOME GOOD to be completely true. Let me take it back to Day 1, the day I hurt myself on RE's 12th birthday.

I was fearful that first day of paralysis. I was beyond ruffled that first week. I fretted about much, including the possibility of my thundercloud plum blooming while I was stuck on bedrest. I only have five trees in my yard and my plum is the biggest and prettiest. When it blooms it truly resembles a pink cloud and every west window has a solid view of pink popcorn. All year I patiently wait for the razzle-dazzle spring finale that is my plum tree.

I spent one motionless day listening to the birds outside. I never realized how much their volume changed throughout the day. The things you learn when you are forced to listen...

By week two I was able to sit up a little. My obtuse angle allowed me to write letters, mend, read the last six General Conferences, imagine the perfect way to redecorate my bedroom, and surf facebook on my ipad. On the wall of one of my sister's friends I saw a group called 8 WEEKS TO A LESS CLUTTERED HOME. I joined the group and learned that there were 40 daily tasks of places to tackle and the end result would be a de-junked, deluxe casa. I was hooked.

I did the easy days first...the silverware drawer, the bookshelves, the bathroom cabinets. Little by little I went through every square inch of my house. On the day I went through my secretary desk I found a Red Lobster gift card circa 2002. I was pretty sure it had less than $2 on it and was going to throw it away since RE is allergic to shellfish. Then I read the fine print on the back: Valid at Olive Garden.

Greg drove me to Olive Garden and I hobbled inside and asked the hostess to read the card and tell me the balance. It had $19! Greg and I ate soup, salad, breadsticks, and the shot glass full of chocolate mousse for free. Score.

I continued to scour through every nook and cranny in the house and got to the buffet in the kitchen. The buffet has a skinny cupboard 5" wide stuffed with anything computer-related. While tossing most of the operation manuals for my old computer software (Quark Xpress 7, judge me why don't you) I found a CD that had "Pics" written on it in pink marker. It wasn't my writing. I popped the CD in and my heart almost stopped when I found the photos my sister Cristall had burned for me in 2005. These were from RE's 4th birthday in Missouri; the year my mom gave her some Clinique bonus make-up for her snail purse. Look at that face. Look at those eyes. Look at those eyebrows!

By the time I had combed through my house with a fine-tooth comb I had a mega stash of stuff to get rid of. Thanks to amazon, ebay, the classifieds, and a garage sale my house lost a metric ton of waste while I gained $600.

Almost the moment the 40 days were up my parents came for a visit. Five years prior I had taken their boxes of photos from Missouri and stashed them in my crawl space with the intention of digitizing my childhood. The only problem was that the first batch of digitizing nearly did me in. It turned out that manually scanning photos one by one was pure torture to every muscle in my thoracic region. My friend Michelle loaned me her Macbook and her photo scanner and both boxes of abandoned photos were scanned in two days. I got to cross the infernally dreaded task SCAN MISSOURI off my list after five long years. Hallelujah.

Before I returned the amazing photo scanner I thought I should scan my own pre-2003 photos (since 2003 was the year we got a digital camera). I pulled out my accordion file marked PICTURES & NEGATIVES and methodically scanned my life backwards until I hit 1997, the year I got married. In clear view, not hidden, and clearly marked were my bridal portrait and wedding negatives that I had accused my mom of losing for the last 14 years. What are the odds that I found them in my own house with her standing right next to me? I apologized lightly knowing that I will never live this down.

SOME GOOD? I should say so. Thanks to my "misfortune" I caught up on my reading and correspondence, ate a free lunch, personally chose every item that I wanted to remain in my home, found priceless pics of my baby girl, crossed a monster project off of my to-do list, digitized my childhood, and ordered the framed bridal portrait of a fair maiden with garage sale money.

And I did not miss Miss Plum blooming.

Dedicated to Becca and Emily~ because Madsen girls are ALL GOOD.