Even in Barbados, It Could Always Be Worse
It Could Always Be Worse is a children’s story based on a Yiddish folk tale. Today it’s my life.
The story is about a man who complains to his rabbi that his home is too small for the family. Too crowded. Chaotic.
Lord, could I relate. Before my husband Greg and I gave up our apartment for a week so that a family from St Louis could have its Barbados holiday (see the story of my foul-up here), I regularly complained that our 1100-square-foot apartment was too small for us.
Yes, the view is beautiful, but the living space, I argued, was meant for people on holiday, not for two people to live day in and day out. Particularly with one of us working at home … Yep, I decided, the place was just too darned small. Too crowded. Chaotic.
I didn’t consult a rabbi; instead I proposed we buy Condo #1 here at St Lawrence Beach Condominiums. It’s got three bedrooms and quite a bit more living space.
Crunching numbers, we realized we cannot afford Condo #1.
The man’s rabbi did not recommend he buy a larger condo. Instead, he recommended the man bring some chickens and roosters into his home.
Puzzled, the man went home and brought the animals into his already-crowded house. Things got worse.
Could I relate … The family from St Louis took our place and we moved into Condo #8 in the same building.
Things were way worse in #8 than they had ever been in our own place. We may as well have had chickens for the chaos of our lives the week we spent in #8. #8 actually hasn’t earned the title of “condo” yet as it’s hardly more than a construction site: it has running water only in the two very small bathrooms, no draperies, no furniture, no AC, no appliances, no TV, no DVD.
Lots of dust and one bare bulb in the living room for reading at night.
We set up a king bed in the living room, bought a Styrofoam ice chest and made the best of things. Trying to stay positive, Greg and I would periodically look at the other then outside, nod, and say, “great view.”
The man in the Yiddish parable went back to his rabbi and complained that now, with the chickens and roosters, everything was utter pandemonium in his household.
The rabbi told the man to bring in some goats.
“Oy vey,” the puzzled man said … he did as he was told and brought in goats.
The place was an utter madhouse.
As with us in #8, clothes piled on the dusty floors, dirty plastic bowls stacking up in what will someday be a kitchen, Greg and me arguing over who misplaced our two spoons, ice melting in our Styrofoam ice chest faster than we could dump the melted ice and get new.
Finally, in utter despair, the man said to the rabbi, “Rabbi, it’s horrible. I cannot stand my home. It’s wretched and horrible and I’m going mad with the chaos.”
The rabbi said, “Go home and get rid of the chickens and the roosters and the goats.”
The man did so.
On Saturday evening, the folks from St Louis left and Greg and I moved back into our little two-bedroom condo.
Getting rid of the animals in his home, the man felt perfect peace … his place seemed quiet, peaceful, lovely in all ways. He’d never known such happiness in his home. He thanked the rabbi for solving all his problems.
Likewise, Greg and I waltzed into our place and spun through it with complete joy. “It’s so beautiful,” we exclaimed, as though we’d never seen our apartment before. “Wow … space!” we exclaimed as we danced around. “A place for everything!”
Did I used to complain about the paradise in which we live? I can’t remember now … I just know I love our beautiful home.
Did I tell you how spacious it is?
2 Responses to “Even in Barbados, It Could Always Be Worse”
Leave a Reply
Cool segues, Janie!
Thank you, love. I’m definitely paraphrasing the book … I haven’t read it since my daughters were tykes.
I am far happier when I live with an attitude of gratitude and the week in #8 helped me get my attitude straightened out.