Lost Opportunity

My wife and I are planning a kitchen remodel.

And we’ve been eyeing a particular range top.

All the bells and whistles.

Last week, a pretty incredible deal appeared—$5,201 off the sticker price.

Something about a wrong order. Overstock. Unused. But no shipping.

So we jumped on it. Purchased. Secured it.

And spent Sunday coordinating with a freight company on how to get a 252-pound, 4-burner range with a wok station cross-country.

Monday rolls around, and we get a call: “I’ve got really bad news … that range you purchased was already sold. A system error. The stock wasn’t taken down.”

I was pretty bummed. Hurt. Frustrated.

But by Tuesday, I noticed I was still dwelling on it.

Wednesday was no different.

Replaying it over and over again:

Should I have done something differently?

Shouldn’t the company make it right?

Did the salesperson do us dirty?

I could feel my righteousness creep in.

Because it’s easier to blame than to forgive.

Because it’s easier to blame than to own.

Because it’s easier to blame than to let go.

Being right is expensive.

It’s heavy.

It takes up headspace.

It ties your happiness to someone else’s choice to change.

So … I let go.

I sent the range and its new owner, which was never mine to begin with, off with some love and blessings.

May you cook epic meals with good friends, food, and family.

May you create lasting memories with those you love.

May it bring you joy, happiness, and safety.

Sometimes the best way to lighten the load is simply to set it down.

Sometimes the only person that needs to change, is you.

Other than to write this email …

I haven’t thought about it since.

Cheers,