Gratitude does not come easily for most of us during adversity. In fact, a large majority of us are not even interested in asking for help (insert your own opinionated statistic about how men hate to ask for directions or how women insist upon proving a point and refuse to ask questions). Our blossoming ideological constructs have little to do with this, I believe.
I see how intrinsic it is now because I watch a two-year-old figure it out daily. I see her refusing my help and avoiding vulnerability. Assertive in her new independence, she wants to try some things herself. Sometimes, this is not a reality for her (that whole being-alive-only-two-years thing and all), but sometimes she accomplishes something on her own, and the outcome of that is astounding.
I keep thinking about the recent conversations I have had with other people, and the one recurring theme in many of them is one underlying statement, possibly never uttered aloud but implied at the very least:
“My life doesn’t look exactly like I thought it would at this point.” (*Insert apologetic, self-conscious grin.)
So many intangible moments wrap up that sweet little package for so many, and the final delivery containing the reality of it all is the part that makes us not want to open the door to its truth. Zora Neale Hurston wrote, in Their Eyes Were Watching God, “There are years that ask questions and years that answer.” I could not find this line more accurate.
I can think of more than one time, for me personally, when an unexpected crack blew through my hemisphere and the universe shifted into some questionable abyss of desolate confusion. The most interesting part of it all, looking back, is that the events that took place were never what I remembered the most. The limelight of those wretched memories fell on my reactions to the events. What I remembered the most was my response and recovery from the initial impact. Sometimes, it’s impossible to be untouched by the world and what it can do, but you always have a choice in the way you accept your truth.
Recently, my daughter practiced stacking pillows in the floor so she could bounce on them. I watched her prepare, calculating the parameter she would need and amount of fluff to break her uncertain fall. After two or three bounces, she lost control and the velocity of her changed direction catapulted her to the carpet.
She looked frazzled, confused by what happened and how it could have happened. She could not decide if she should cry or get angry. After all, she was so prepared just to have such a disappointing outcome occur. I expected her to ask for my help to make this endeavor go the way she intended, but she didn’t do that.
For the next three days, I watched her try to recreate the scenario. She stacked pillows and instead of bouncing to stay within the boundary of her initial comfort, she tried to fall off of them again, laughing with each attempt. Then I realized what was happening.
She liked it. She was surprised and thrilled by the adventure of it–by not knowing what would happen. She turned what should have been her disappointment into something that made her happy. She pursued it as a lesson, trying to understand what happened and attempt to repeat it so she could find enjoyment from it again. Instead of focusing on the shock of the fall, she focused on the good parts.
This sounds simplified in the world we live in, but it isn’t. This is the world we live in. We are surprised every day by people and events. It’s okay not to have the answer you’re looking for the moment you feel like you need it and deserve it, no matter how lost you may feel without it. The answers will come because God knew them before you ever asked the question. Be thankful for your truth and know that it’s okay to ask for help. It’s also okay to create something new from unfortunate surprises. The timing and uncertainty of it all is what makes life one of the greatest adventures yet.
God Bless,
M
Blue Withens 