I couldn't have been more wrong.
Somewhere in the process, while I was looking long and hard in the mirror every morning, looking for answers in the mundane, and looking for a pretty bow to wrap around my fifties, I made one more discovery: a discovery that's been trying to surface for a while, a discovery I've been pushing away, and one I'm not eager to admit.
I discovered that I haven't really coped or conquered or come to terms with anything. Instead, I've become angry. And I feel somewhat justified in my anger. Problem is, justified or not, happiness and anger can't coexist in the same heart.
So what do I want? Do I want to feel all my well-deserved anger and wallow in it every day? Or do I want to be happy?
Anger is exhausting; happiness is refreshing. Anger is a fire that must be stoked daily; happiness is a flower that needs water every morning. Anger is the default setting on your TV; happiness is high def. The heat of anger pushes everyone away; the fragrance of happiness pulls everyone in.
I have every right to be angry --- most of us in our fifties do. If our lives were measured on the face of a clock and midnight was the end, we're probably around 8:00 or 9:00 PM. And, even at this late hour, life still disappoints.
But I don't want to be angry anymore. It's a choice, not a life sentence. Admitting it's encroaching on my happiness is the first step.
I'm praying to see the world through new eyes --- happier eyes.
Starting today.
No comments:
Post a Comment