Perspective

One of the things that I struggle with as a mother and as a person in general is keeping things in perspective. I really need to make a conscious effort to take a step back and be grateful for what I have. Somehow, like many of us, this concept does not always come naturally to me. You would think that with all that has happened this past year with the economy, I would have more perspective on our personal finance situation. Yes, our mortgage is outrageous and we struggle to make ends meet. But we live in a great house with some of the best schools in the state. And my husband still has a job. I am SO grateful for that. You would think that with the horrible car crash that happened in our town this past year, I would be more conscious every time I got in the car. You'd think I would slow down; chill out; be a few minutes late. What's really THAT important that five minutes late is worth getting into a car accident? You would think that with the horrible fires that ripped through our mountains and STILL are not fully contained that I would be more grateful for our house still being here. Never mind the stained carpeting and the peeling wallpaper. Never mind that weird bump that has popped up on our kitchen floor (what IS that?). Never mind the often-failing water heater. You would think that the fact that I have three healthy and thriving kids would be enough. Yes, they sometimes yell or sass or refuse to follow directions. They sometimes fight with one another and drive me up a wall. But they also give great hugs and kisses, tell incredible stories and make us constantly laugh.

Yesterday I was having one of those days. You know the days I'm talking about. Nobody slept that well. I've overextended myself with the volunteer stuff and it seemed like everything had to be done by yesterday. I was annoyed with the people who don't volunteer at all and then ask for accommodations for their schedules and their lives, forgetting that we are not their employees and don't need to volunteer to help out their children. We do it anyway. My kids were grouchy; my husband was grouchy; I was grouchy. Yesterday morning, late as usual, I turned onto the main street off our little lane behind a driver with a "Drive 25" bumper sticker. "Please do," I thought. "You're only going 19!" Annoyed, I followed him all the way onto the freeway, where he proceeded to drive a speedy 45. Getting off at the next offramp, coming down the crest, out of the mountains, were five fire trucks. All five were from towns I had never heard of, far away from our little town. All five were packed full of weary firefighters, dusty and dirty. All five were full of men who had helped to save our town.

I took a deep breath, waved a wave of gratitude and slowly turned into the intersection. Perspective, Christa, perspective.