Perspective

In the years from 1993 to 1999, I lived in a beautiful home. I had flower boxes and a garden I tended with care. I grew tomatoes, okra, and fresh spring lettuce that I lovingly prepared for my family in those summers. In the winter months, I’d spend most of my time in the kitchen, cooking lasagna, chili, stews, or roasts. We were blessed to always have food on the table, and when our friends dropped by to see us, which they did often, we had enough to share.

We also had a fluffy, friendly dog that stood by the door until we got home, or so it seemed, and we often lived with two little boys, who were my step sons. These boys played in their room, or in the big yard with the dog, or sat in the living room, watching sports and becoming Dolphin and Tiger Woods fans, because their dad was. The boys were fun and funny and rambunctious, and we got to see them every summer for at least six weeks and at least once during the holidays, despite the fact that they lived four states away. When they were 6 and 8, I started teaching them “dating manners,” and we would have fancy dinners at the house (crab legs and steak, table cloth and candles). They would pull out my chair for me, say grace, and keep their elbows off the table. The rest of the time, they were “all boy,” running and fighting and wrestling and riding their bikes until they were tired enough, or told, to get their baths and go to sleep.

Sometimes our bills were paid late, but they were always paid. I had a really good job that I enjoyed, and we had vehicles in the driveway that took us all the places we wanted to go... Florida for a vacation, Michigan to see my family, and four states away to get the boys.

I was very secure in the fact that the man-of-the-house loved me beyond words. There was not a night, for most of that time, when we did not hold hands as we fell asleep. He bragged about my cooking, and I was proud of him for trying to start his own business, but, when this man died tragically in November of 1999, this chapter of my life came to a close.

There was a man. During the years of 1993-1999, he lived in a mobile home that he felt was too small and too old. His ex-wife had taken his children from him, and out of spite it seemed, moved them hundreds of miles away. He felt that he rarely got to see his sons, and the separation made him angry. Actually, nearly everything made him angry… his finances, his lack of ability to see his children more often, his past, his future… His anger kept him from working for or with other people, so he was forced to try to work on his own.  He always suspected his live-in girlfriend was cheating on him, and he felt like a failure, driving a seven-year-old Ford Ranger that his 5-11 frame could barely fold itself into. This angry, unhappy man took his own life in November of 1999, and this chapter of his life came to a close.

In case you haven’t guessed, both stories are about the same man... and me. The same family, same home, same life… two sides of the same coin. Two completely different perspectives. The entire experience makes me wonder why anyone would choose to see the most negative aspects of a situation. Do some people not realize that there is a choice to be made? Does negative thinking become so habitual that it becomes difficult, or impossible, to see what is going right amidst all of the going wrongs?

This week, near the anniversary of the ending of one of the most significant chapters of my life, I ask you: which side of the coin, which story of your life, is your focus? Does it serve you, or serve to crush your spirit? If it’s the latter, I beg of you, turn the coin over. Intentionally stop yourself from looking for the worst of things, and start making it a habit to count your blessings.

If you will, you can start to see that we live on a rich playground in which to explore ourselves and our lives, and though we sometimes skin our knees and get hurt on this playground, sometimes we get to swing and slide and play and feel sunshine on our faces. It is during these times, if you will recognize them, that life feels very, very good. And all is well.

Joy and love to you.