Breaks of sun

People who run marathons or challenge their bodies in intense physical activity are often caught saying that, more than the physical training, "It's a mental game." So much of it is a battle of will, an exercising of the brain. Mind over matter. This is nothing new, nothing novel. Why, then, at my age am I just connecting the dots?

Life is almost all about perspective.

I'm catching it, this subtle but potent switch of word choice. Not generalizing my days to either "good" or "bad," or even "not too bad." I mean, is there really such a thing as a bad day? A whole entire day when absolutely everything that happens, every moment and and every thing in our surroundings are bad? Surely there are painful moments, stretching and challenging and hard moments and downright unpleasant moments. Surely some days, those moments tip the scale. But does that make them bad?

It's more than just a game of semantics. It's much more complex, a total overhaul of perspective. The input of the eyes is translated by the brain and internalized in the heart and spit out the mouth.

My counselor and I discuss this concept, and she comments, "If we pray it won't rain, all we see is that it still rains. If we pray for sunshine, what do we see? It can rain most of the day, but we notice that sun break in the middle." Because we're looking for it. So true, in weather and in life.

True in relationships, too, though harder to swallow. I'm learning that when I feel disappointed, hurt, broken-hearted, sorrowful, lonely, misunderstood or abandoned in relationship with others, I've got some choices. I can see the day that didn't stop raining, or I can see the break of sun. I can see the lack, or I can see the truth that I cling to in my own life: there is more to life than this. This opens my eyes, stretches my brain, saturates my heart and begins to come out my mouth. I can live grateful, because this is not all there is.