Monday morning, I had a most unwelcome surprise.

I came out to my car, a few minutes behind schedule.

Coffee jostling in my mug.

Laptop, planner, and papers heaving about.

I hoisted everything into the backseat.

Got in.

Fastened my seatbelt.

(Safety first, people.)

Turn the car on.

And was greeted with a view of a bird turd the size of a small southern state on my front windshield.

It was an inconveniently placed turd, too, let me tell you.

It was directly in my line of sight.  I swear this feathered little friend of mine had aimed.

So what did I do?  What have any of us ever done in this situation?

I juiced up my windshield wipers and tried to banish the thing.

Did it work?

No.

No.

Instead, it left an unhappy little rainbow of bird shit trailing across my windshield.

Lovely.

But I had to get to work.  I had no time to fix this thing now.

So I sat up very tall in my seat, to look over it.

And there I was, bobbing and weaving my head, trying to keep the damned thing out of view as I made my way to work.

(There’s a point to this story, promise.)

The zen of bird turds

This small piece of bird shit was quite persistent.  It hung around for a few days.

I learned a lot about myself as I observed my reaction to it all.

At first, I was mildly annoyed.

Well, yes, Ann.  Of course it’s on the driver’s side of the windshield.  Right?  Just like when the driver’s side windshield wiper always goes bad first. What a pain.

And then, after trying to get rid of it with the wipers, I had a brief moment of appreciation at its persistence.

(Yes, I know a piece of bird shit is not a willful, sentient being that intends to persist.  Nonetheless.)

I got to work, forgot about it.  And then it greeted me again on the drive home.

After a few days of this, it had become some sort of symbol for me.

That piece of crap got me thinking about mindfulness.  Every time I sat in the car, it greeted me.

Hello.  Still here, are you?

I wondered why I hadn’t gone ahead and gotten a car wash.

Or at least a damp sponge and solved the problem myself.

But somehow the issue was worth noting each and every time I got into the car.

One rainy morning, I went out to my car.

And the shit was gone.  Gone in the night.

I think the rain must have finally done away with it.

I know it’s not the most elegant image I’ve used in a post.

But something so mundane did happen to have a few lessons for me to ponder.

Maybe they’ll be of use to you, too.

Lessons here?

Shit happens.

Inconveniently.  Messily.

And sometimes we can’t seem to clear it from our line of sight, no matter how hard we try.

But sometimes, if we wait, the shit takes care of itself.

Make peace with the shit if you can.

Try patience.

Try acceptance.

Try humor.

If those don’t work, try a soft sponge.  Or wait for a hard rain to fall.

And what did I learn?

Even a bird turd can teach you something, if you squint hard enough.

Have you ever found a life lesson in some strange packaging?  Feel free to share in the comments below.