Life turns on the decisions we make

 

I find myself making plans for tomorrow, setting goals, pressing onward and then I prepare for the unexpected. Life turns on the decisions we make and it makes a mockery of our carefully orchestrated plans. The internal outline I drew for my life as a youth resembles very little of the road map of reality for my life; my internal life plan was like a carefully crafted pencil sketch and my reality looks a little more like the crayon scribbled sketch of a toddler. I did say that I wanted to have 4 boys when I was 12 years old - unbelievably I do have 4 boys who far exceed any of my expectations or hope. 

Life also turns on the decisions we make. Decisions of every day - minute or magnificent - change the roads we follow, the places we go, the people we orbit around, and ultimately alter the course of our lives. The whole or our lives turns on the choices we make in each day and there is is something compelling and also daunting about that reality. 

In the past two weeks I've been able to spend time (though never enough!) with friends whom I have known for decades, and friends from my childhood. We have been separated by hundreds of miles for many years, so our lives are not parallel, but they are intersecting and each of those intersecting points is a beautiful highlight on the timeline of my own life. I have watched each of their lives (from a distance), I have shared in their victories, I have grieved in their losses, and I have been rich for knowing and loving them. The battles we have each fought are unique and none of us would have chosen to be in the fight. Yet, I see how through the trials, through the hardship, because of the impossible things we have been required to do, we have each found strength that is not innate. We have been molded into softer, less callous versions of ourselves and we are able to see one another with clearer vision/insight.

I am deeply grateful for the passage of time with all it brings with it; I do not know what tomorrow holds, but I know that my life is rich for the people who have filled it. Hope can be a dangerous thing; it can be a distraction from today for a tomorrow that may never come. My hope is in today, in the promises (in the One who makes those promises) I know to be true!

If you weren't so tall

 

I was in the aisle of the grocery store trying to reach a bottle of sparkling water that was on the top shelf. I was tiptoeing precariously to reach it and as I dropped back down, I bumped into a small lady who had decided to stand directly behind me. I apologized profusely for bumping into her, even though I'm certain I could not have avoided it without some serious gymnastics. She scowled at me and said, "WELL! It would certainly help if you weren't so tall!" I was not-a-little mortified. I had no words; I had plenty upon reflection, but none would have reflected things in my heart which are noble or praiseworthy. :-) When I went to the self checkout to buy my troublesome sparkling water, a tall gentleman who had witnessed the encounter tapped me on the shoulder, leaned in and said, "tall is wonderful." In this small statement, that man built me up and instilled strength where I felt most vulnerable. It was a kindness I will remember. 

Sometimes it's challenging to be kind. I was looking in a pool of clear, still water a couple weeks ago. The reflection was nearly flawless. It made me think about reflections; what do I reflect to others about themselves? Do I reflect that they are valuable, beautiful, loved? I think too often I do not.

 

Do I reflect to them the truth about themselves, or do I give them a distorted view cluttered with the mess of my own life/self? 

Life seems to be one long learning curve for me. In truth I do let the stuff of life clutter my perspective, in spite of my best intentions. I have recently felt deep hurt in a close friendship, I have been disappointed by what I cannot change in chapters of the book of my life that are still being written, I feel heartbreak at the ongoing suffering of the child I brought into this world and I feel exasperation because my desperate search for the key to unlock him must continue. Can I, through the fog of pain (or heartache, or exasperation), reflect to others whom I encounter that they are valuable and precious? Can I reflect beauty even in the times when beauty is not the most overwhelming ingredient in my perspective? 

I will endeavor to do so, even if I should fail more than I would like.