Tuesday, November 15, 2011

100 Acre Woods (REPOSTED From Canfield Composition)

In the 100 Acre Wood

Yesterday in a rare moment of relative 'quiet' (meaning that only four of my six very loud children were screaming at ear-piercing decibels) I happened to catch the weatherman's forecast on the evening news. Are they even called that anymore?  I don't think that's the politically correct term these days, because these days, it seems everything must tout politically correct terminology.  But that's another post for another time.  Anyway, his description was something like this: "Another windy, dreary day here in east Tennessee".  And I wondered to myself which Tennessee he was talking about!  In my east Tennessee it was a beautiful, blustery, almost-chilly day (Christopher Robin, eat your heart out).  Leaves skitter across the roads; breezes billow my living room curtains.  I've loved having the windows open and listening to the birds in the trees on my front lawn.  And if the kids are eating, I can even hear the breeze blowing the leaves.

Isn't it interesting that two people can have such vastly differing views on the same event (or weather conditions or what have you)?  Truly happy people in life are able to maintain that positive perspective, no matter the challenges or trials they may be facing.  And I'm pretty sure that I want to be 'one of those' people.  I want to find joy in whatever comes my way.  Life experiences have taught me that this isn't always so easy.  But life has also taught me that I am so much happier when I'm able to find joy in this journey.

So this day I resolve to try harder to find the light in the dark, especially when it'd be easier to just stay in the dark (I think I must be part groundhog).  The next time I'm stuck behind an oblivious little Grandma speeding along the interstate at a reckless 52 mph in the left lane, I'll just turn up the radio and sing along like nobody's listening.  And the next time my moody preteen screeches at me, I'll be thankful that she has such a beautiful voice.  When my husband leaves his dirty laundry on the bedroom floor, I'll be thankful that I have a home at all when so many in this world are not so blessed to be able to say that.  Then I'll pick up the dirty laundry and lovingly place it under his pillow.  I mean, let's not get carried away here.  There's plenty of time to improve.  Besides, I need to save things to work on next month.

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