Greatest Decision Of All Time

This time of year, you might be tempted to blame it on the rain: your mood, decisions, sleep habits.  It’s a reality that we exist in nature. She pushes and pulls us as much as the moon calls the tides. Many Skagitonians thrive in the cool dampness of winter. We set that Vitamin D bottle on the nightstand, buy more candles to combat the 4 pm sunset, and foolishly decide that a coffee with lunch is required. At heart, we love the excuse to be home and on our couch. Sure, we have our days we slink sadly around dreaming of sandal weather. For me, the heat makes me cranky and fidgety, and I make rash decisions.  Let’s go back to the end of June for a hot sec and let me give you an example.

The day’s heat had all gathered in my bedroom, and the rotating fan just laughed when I switched it on and laid down, hoping to get some sleep before the morning’s alarm began to buzz. Instead of sleeping, I fretted about all the things I don’t have control over—which is a fair chunk turns out—and then thought that Craigslist would be a good distraction. Through a series of clicks, I found a post for two banded and budded brother goats born a month earlier in search of a home. Their long Nubian ears flipped out at the ends with the sweetest curl, and both of their tails had a wisp of white. If I was a cartoon character, I would have had big hearts pulsating over my eyes. I sent out an email of inquiry but reasoned it was unlikely they’d still be available. ‘Cuz everyone loves baby goats.

I was surprised when I heard back the next day that the boys were still looking for a home and even more surprised when after asking nearly NOT enough questions, I decided that I would drive to Leavenworth on July 3 through that traffic mess, to pack them into a borrowed dog crate full of hay and become the world’s most enthusiast, least educated goat mama. I did do some research and get votes of support from family, but my decision was not based on the cost of goat formula (it’s almost $35 a bag) or if the cattle panel I needed to build their pen would fit into the back of my minivan (it barely did). The decision was based on one simple exchange.

I texted the photos of the boys to my husband and immediately followed up with a phone call that began with me immediately squealing in delight, “did you see those babies?!” I explained how I wanted them so bad, but I was being a team player by asking him his thoughts. His reply was that he couldn’t remember when he had last heard that level of excitement in my voice.  And that immediately brought tears to my eyes. Yes, I’m a 48-year-old softie, and chances are if I put on the radio and an Elton John song comes on I WILL CRY, but the accuracy of his statement rang true.

In my experience, adult life consists of lots and lots of decisions we make out of survival of ourselves and those we love. As much as I love working at the Co-op, let’s be clear—I need the paycheck: I buy products I feel will keep my family healthy. I get my blood tested twice a year. I put gas in my car. I take the vitamin D I have on my nightstand. I know I am fortunate to be able to make those decisions, but I couldn’t quite remember the last time I made a decision based purely on the joy factor. Yes, the weed-eating factor of the goats has been significant since we brought them home, but in that muggy night of restlessness, I just wanted something to make me laugh.

Goats deliver the laughs. The way they invade my personal space to gently sniff my ear and try a nibble of my hair makes me giggle like lil’ girl. How their ears whip back and forth like a new sassy summer bob on a 3rd grader as they run to greet me when I pull up in the driveway makes my face break out in the goofiest grin every time. Their aerobatic leaps from the picnic table as all of their limbs kick out at odd angles in all directions makes me feel like I’m watching my own personal furry cheerleaders celebrate a touchdown. Even how they stubbornly push on any obstacle or scream their injustice at not being allowed in the house brings me bubbles of bliss.

Of course, my head didn’t know much of this when I welcomed a whole new species into my life. While my heart was thrilled at how they nuzzled up to me while I brushed them with the pink plastic detangling brush long since abandoned in the back drawers of the bathroom, my brain was zooming around the search engines trying to decide which source to believe on the toxicity of wilted maple leaves and attempting to memorize the many symptoms of bloat. All of this brain work was to ensure their survival, but it was the steamy stream of joyfulness that fueled me. Turns out, motivation means the most. It converts a seemingly endless list of chores into an opportunity to celebrate unique blessings many others are wishing to receive. Instead of “I have to” these actions become “I get to.”

Holidays can feel like a whole lot of “I have to” served with a side of “I can’t afford this.” The struggle is real.  Sludging through the day is a reality that becomes more challenging with each step for many, many people in our community. You probably can’t pay off your cousin’s mortgage or reload the memories stolen from your mother’s mind. There are real losses and real costs we will all pay, but the winter season gives us the silence and stillness to find the ways we can share joy.

Let’s be childlike and impulsive in the pursuit of sharing joy with others. Let’s be reckless in how we express our gratitude for the blessings hiding under the obligations that come with family and work. Show up to the office with a box of pastries loaded with carbs and caring. Leave a tube of hand cream in your wife’s purse or a fresh bag of bath salts on the rim of the bathtub. Slip a pair of new fuzzy socks into your kid’s drawer. Greet your holiday guests at the baggage claim with a bouquet of flowers and a speaker blaring the song that makes you think of them whenever it comes in, and know that every person who witnesses this will feel their heart expand at your willingness to be the fool for love.

Get silly with it like a goat trying to climb into a moving wheelbarrow full of hay even though it ends in a crash every time. Be awkward and clumsy in trying to make others smile. Be stubborn in becoming the G.O.A.T. (Greatest of All Time) in protecting your peace by building a bouncy house of joy in which you reside.