Sometimes life is wonderful. A friend gives us an unexpected gift which fills our hearts with gladness. We carefully pull open the flower covered gift bag and lift back the tissue paper. We realize the gift giver knows us well because the gift is something we have longed for. We look at our friend and marvel at the deep love that exists between us and know there is no greater joy.
Sometimes life is difficult. We face a challenging task at work that stretches us far beyond our boundaries. We begin to worry. Can we accomplish what we set out to do? If we don’t, will be get demoted or even, gulp, laid off? So we push and press until our brains turn into puddles of jelly. We sit in the rubble of a half-completed project and sigh. We feel like Charlie Brown. “Good grief.”
We live our lives in this tension. Between gladness and difficulty. Between melancholy and utopia. Between heartache and bliss. Sprinkle in a handful of shattered expectations and things really get interesting.
When I was younger I didn’t know how to deal with the twists and turns of life, but as I age I realize I have learned to navigate to a certain extent. I remember having complete meltdowns about my car breaking down but now I shrug it off and go to plan B. I watch the new mothers at work walk in looking disheveled from a sleepless night and think, “Yep! I remember that.” But when I was experiencing it, I thought it was the end of the world.
And then there is death. (Oh, great! She’s writing about death. Fantastic!) Actually, I don’t want to get too deep here. I only mean to say that this is one area I will never learn to navigate. Sure, I can get used to it, but it will never feel okay. We lost my husband’s grandmother last year and I still think about her daily. I miss her presence. I miss her grouchy comments. I miss how proud she was of me for accomplishing my goals. I’ll never see her again on this earth and it hurts. And then I lost my beloved dog, Hodges. I knew he was ill. I knew he wouldn’t live forever. But I never thought about the fact that one day he wouldn’t be with me anymore. I look at pictures and just ache. When he was alive I didn’t realize how his presence filled every nook and cranny of the house. As a result of that loss I have learned to embrace my remaining dog, Gwen. She has new toys, new bones, new treats, and I keep hugging her like there’s no tomorrow. And now I know, one day she won’t be here anymore either. These thoughts are paralyzing.
But I choose to leverage those thoughts with all the wonderful things and somehow the sad things become more bearable. When I think about Spring and the Dogwood trees in bloom, of the garden rippling with fresh lettuce and juicy strawberries picked right from the plant, I sigh. For every sad experience, there is an equally joyous experience. Life feels a little like a scale teetering back and forth between extremes.
We choose our outlook on life. I met a woman in the grocery store the other day who was very unhappy to stand in line. I tried to talk to her and cheer her up but she continued to complain. I told her there was a family whose daughter was taken from them senselessly this week and as a result she would not hear me complaining about anything. She said, “Sometimes complaining helps people!” Her face was all pruney and she had a set to her jaw that proved nothing I said would change her mindset. I responded, “I respectfully disagree” and prayed the cashier would hurry.
I’m sitting in my bedroom after waking up at 3:00am. I have been ill this week and have had little sleep. I did not have the luxury to call in sick to work and as a result I am totally exhausted and drained. My children are screaming and fighting as I write this. 10 years ago I might have crawled under my bed and cried. But today….
Today, I’m looking out the window and all I see is the beautiful sun, shining like a golden promise. And I know this is only a season. I know I will get better. My children will grow and move on with their lives and my house will be quiet. Today, I choose to bask in this moment because right now I have the opportunity to experience pain and bliss in the same moment.
And this moment in my life feels like a precious miracle, stretched out like prisms hanging from a clothesline to sparkle in the sun. I am filled with wonder!
Leave a Reply