The cure for disappointment —or any sad mishap —is to buy a new lamp! Well, not exactly a lamp. I’m using that as a metaphor.
This realization came to me a few days ago when I accidentally chipped the edge of the frosted, cream-colored glass shade on my French antique banker’s lamp. It’s a lovely reproduction and I love the lamp. So, the broken glass shade made me sad. I looked online for a replacement glass shade and couldn’t find one exactly like mine. I found ones that would work, but they weren’t like the one I had.
This is when it occurred to me that I could buy a new lamp, a different one. One that I would love also. I found one online called the Tiffany Maple Jewel table lamp. The lamp has a Tiffany stained-glass shade in green, gold, and orange design with an antique bronze base. It looks similar to the type of lamps featured in the lobby of the Grand Californian Hotel at Disneyland. So it caught my attention. All the customer reviews for this lamp displayed the highest five-star rating. One reviewer wrote:
“I have owned this lamp for over 8 years and love it more than when I first bought it. It is a beautiful piece of craftsmanship.”
Her lamp lasted eight years and she loves it even more? My French banker’s lamp lasted only 5 years and I don’t love it any more than when I bought it. I wonder why the reviewer’s Tiffany Jewel lamp made her love it more? Did the bright glass colors make her happier each time she entered the room? Did it glow with an iridescence of joy to increase her love for it? Did it light up her life more than any other lamp?
I won’t know the answer until I have this lamp for myself. Thankfully it’s on its way to my home as I submitted my order this morning.
Here’s what I’ve learned. Life happens and things break or fall apart. Some things encounter a demise caused by rambunctious pets leaping on your bookshelf. Precious things topple from the shelf and smash on the floor, like your precious antique bottle, over one-hundred years old. Well, I’m getting off the subject.
As I was attempting to say, disappointments happen, dreams don’t always turn out the way we want, and plans can go awry. People let us down. Even worse, it’s often people we like.
Disappointment, I’ve discovered. isn’t all about loss. It’s also an opportunity to go in a different way, to find something new to replace what you lost, to seek something else that brings joy. Letting go is a lot easier when you have something new to grab a hold of.
I know life isn’t all about “things” and that real joy comes from within.
Dealing with disappointment has a lot to do with letting go of the hurt or loss or pain caused by a circumstance or person. Maybe you don’t believe in God or trust God, I don’t know. But I can tell you this.
No beautiful lamp in the world will ever replace the inner peace of letting go and letting God, as the saying goes. Disappointment can be a new direction with renewed hope.
Still, I can’t seem to let go of my annoyance with our cats and their treatment of the large area rug in the living room. It was once an exquisite rug of ornamental pattern in earth tone colors. Jerry and I spent weeks looking for the right rug to place on our new hardwood floor in the family room. Jerry had said, “I want a rug that’s like a painting on the new wood floor.”
We found a rug that we liked, and although it set us back financially, it rested beautifully beneath the glass coffee table Jerry built. That was quite a few years ago. Today our rug features a shaggy, shredded look, with fibers poking up everywhere making it look more like a painting growing hair. Since Jerry and I agreed to not declaw our cats, we’re stuck with hairy Rugzilla.
I tried spraying the rug with citrus scent as cats hate the smell of oranges. That didn’t work. I spread the product “Kitty No” all around the perimeter of the rug. Our cats ignored Kitty No and said Kitty Yes! as they plopped their bodies on the rug. They dig their claws into the rug when we’re not looking.
To purchase a new rug, like the one we have, isn’t in our near-future plans as we have other priorities to take care of. (Besides, it would only meet the same fate.) But with my new perspective on dealing with disappointment, I’ll try out my new strategy and start thinking of the opportunity there might be in my disappointment with Rugzilla.
But wait! No Kitty! No Kitty! Don’t you dare even think of leaping on my book shelf. Get down!
I said, “No! Go to your cardboard Costco packing box, which you love much more than the fancy cat condo we bought for you!”
Sigh. The price we pay for having a pet. βω