This morning my coworker asked me how my weekend was. I really wanted to say it was awful - my kids didn’t sleep, our self-attempt at family photos was subpar, and my son tried walking and in return, fell and bumped his head. Then a flashback to Friday happened – on Friday this same coworker was told her daughter’s cancer was terminal. Her beautiful, 25-year-old daughter has terminal cancer.
My coworker was told her daughter’s cancer was terminal.
My weekend was perfect. I woke up every morning and could see those beautiful faces. My children are growing. Our family was together. We had special visitors to help us with pictures. We are healthy and happy, it was only a little bruise anyway. How could anything – even my brother having his umpteenth seizure – seem to be so awful. He was at home and life was back to normal. Our normal.
And then I started thinking.
Thinking about perspective. About how we choose to see the world. To whether the glass is half full or empty.
It made me think about the family at church who is grieving the loss of their young son – who died on his 22nd birthday – and the other family whose cake didn’t turn out as expected (guilty).
I thought about the friend who unexpectedly went blind – a mom of three young sons, and the ranting of those adjusting to the time change and the dark of night happening too early (guilty).
Of the father whose son was stillborn at 40 weeks, a mother who longs to speak to hers, and the parents whose biggest obstacle of the day is making it through the unorganized mess of the drop-off/pick-up line (guilty).
A friend who would give anything to have one more day with her sister who committed suicide a couple years ago, and another who is mad at hers because of some silly reason she can’t even remember (guilty).
About a different coworker who has to wake up multiple times in the night to turn his daughter because her disability doesn’t allow her to do so on her own, and a mom who was late to the meeting because her toddler-aged daughter took too long dressing herself (guilty).
Each a problem in their own regard. Each a struggle for the individual. Life isn’t perfect. We all have moments of weakness. We all have bad days. Is it awful? Awfully beautiful?
Is perspective what we make of it? Is perspective a choice we get to make? Is perspective something we can change? Do we only see things as we are? Can we only see the world through our own eyes and experiences?
Do we wake up grumbling? Do we wake up grateful? Do we get to choose? Do we get to change our own perspective?
How was your weekend?
For the glass filled halfway – is yours half empty or half full? You make the choice.
Choose happy.
Choose grateful.
Choose full.
