“ …but she no longer believed in luck, good or bad. People made choices and lived with the consequences. Through the years she had discovered that some people had certain advantages that allowed them to escape the worst consequences of their bad decisions, but she wouldn’t call that luck. If she did, she would have to wonder why good luck and bad had not been distributed more equitably, and dwelling upon that was the quickest route to bitterness.”
That’s a quote from the book I’m currently reading, Circle of Quilters. I read that page last night, and it hit a nerve. People often tell me that they admire me for the manner in which I’ve handled all life has thrown my way. That I’m an inspiration for having such an optimistic attitude in spite of the challenges I’ve faced. My response is usually to say that I don’t really see myself as being much different than others, most people just haven’t been given the opportunity to exhibit their strengths in the way I have.
But then again, though I’m not sure that I’d qualify my children and cancer as consequences of bad decisions, I would definitely agree that people live with the consequences of their choices. For me, I choose to live life as an optimist, the consequence being and enjoyment of life. I guess I could have just as easily chosen to feel like a victim, leading me instead to that “route to bitterness.”
There is one situation that sets me on that path to bitterness, or down the “Why me?” road. This time it happened on Saturday at the mall. It has happened at the zoo, at school functions, parades, and theme parks, really anywhere that families gather. I was patiently waiting for someone to check another store when I was asked once again if I needed help. After I told the salesperson that I was already being helped, he turned his attention to a mother pushing a stroller to see if there was something she needed. She said that she was just following her son through the store. That’s when I noticed that she had a total of 6 kids, from teens to toddlers. They were a cute family, all seemingly healthy, and well behaved, though I am obviously just assuming all of this.
That’s what sets me off on the, “Six kids? Six typical, normal, healthy kids? How is that even possible?” That is just so the opposite of my reality. And honestly, for a moment I am envious, angry, sad, tired, resentful, and bitter. But only for a moment, because no matter what, dwelling in someone else’s reality isn’t going to allow me to live in and celebrate the beautiful reality that is mine.
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