White Stuff

As I slogged through the gritty grey snow that carpeted the roadway, snow falling madly about, piling up on anything and everything, including my head as I hurried into the office, I reflected on the change of heart I have had with winter. It's reflective of a transformation we must all fight throughout our "growing up." The lost innocence, the lost simplicity of enjoying the snowfall and all the fun it could bring if you just embraced it.

From my childhood, I have many enduring moments. Why some stand out so clearly, I will never know. I am not one who can recall all the moments from my past. I have friends from college and high school who I love to share reunions with because they never seem to forget any event we shared. They revel in stories I recall only as the tale unfolds, still forgetting details likely exaggerated by time and the gift of story telling.

Yet I have moments that stand out as clear as any in my memory. Some of these memories are obviously important events in my life, others are simply random moments that shine through the haze of age like lighthouses in a lifting fog. In one of those moments, I was on my bicycle. I was riding down Briar Avenue, which runs at a 90 degree angle from our house, like an arrow pointing to opportunities that lay somewhere "out there." As I rode down Briar, I must have been reflecting on some complication in an adult's life, some moment of madness or trauma, fear or loathing, anger or frustration. I just don't recall. But what I recall most vividly is my reflection on how simple life is. How easy it is to be happy. Life was beautiful. I don't know how old I was, I don't recall if it was before or after my mother's untimely and premature death. But I simply recall thinking, "Life is simple. Be happy." And in the wisdom of my youth, I knew that adult had lost their way somehow.

As I grew older and reflected on that moment, I observed how many adults, in the effort to be happy, simply make bad choices. They follow complicated paths pursuing happiness that could be theirs if they simply took the time to appreciate the blessings of their life. If they simply slowed down enough to see the beauty of their friends, their loved ones and the world around them.

The other night we went to see "How, How, Why, Why..." It's basically a monologue about the author/performer's life events and his personal reflection on the blessings of his life. He has included in his story path a lovely and entertaining, almost sassy, lady who sings and plays the accordian and guitar. She sings in a way that lets you hear the words of a song as if you are hearing them for the first time. I'm not sure how she does it. She was enthralling to me. But the bottom line for me was that here was a guy who had one very deformed arm and one perfectly good arm that he ruined in a motorcycle crash. Ironically, his useless, deformed arm became his very useful "good arm." He adapted. And as he poignantly reflected, his prayers had changed from asking God for things to thanking God for his blessings. And, as a result of that shift, he found many blessings in his world that he never would have found, but for the "blessing" of a motorcycle wreck that nearly killed him and ruined the one good arm he once enjoyed.

I've met a similar story once before. As I reflected to others on this experience, more than one person has suggested that the change in attitude, not God, brought the blessings into these lives. Perhaps. Perhaps not. But the answer is not so important as the fact.

Be thankful. Life can be simple and beautiful. Let it be.