A few weeks ago, I took the subway to pick up the car in the garage and drive my family to Connecticut. I was carrying my dog, a freezer bag, and my regular bag, in which I had stowed my computer, wallet, phone, keys, etc.
I exited the train on Christopher Street with the dog in my arms, the freezer bag on my left shoulder… and no bag.

As I watched the number 1 train disappear with my bag in it, my heart almost stopped. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know what to do. I had no money, no phone, no keys and there were two nervous octogenarians waiting for me. 
I started spiraling down for a couple of minutes and then... I bounced back. I started breathing deeper and I felt certain things would work out.  And they did. I called my phone from the garage and a lovely voice picked up to tell me my bag was safe and I just needed to go and pick it up. 

I’m so grateful for this person's kindness. But I’m also deeply grateful for my practice and the fact that I didn’t completely break down (my first impulse when in this kind of situations is to cry while screaming, "Why me?").
 

When I started my spiritual practice,  I did it because I wanted a life where nothing ever went wrong and I always felt great. Instead, crap still hits the fan, but I've changed. Most times I can keep my center. And many times, what seems like disasters end up being my best stories.