It happened again. I find myself in the same position. The position of discontentment.
When my bones rest easy, laughter fills the house, and the world is sparkly, it’s child’s play to wrap myself in contentment.
Before the race gets muddy with feet bogging daily grime and I run slap into a mountain full of sharp teeth, I am doing all right. I can be content.
But I have to work at being content. It’s not one time accomplishment. Contentment is easier to misplace than my keys, my wallet, and that book of stamps that keeps walking off.
Contentment is elusive. Just about the time I’m thinking I’ve got this thing down. I finally learned my lesson, I slide back into the pit. I don’t notice it on the way down. I’m certain those around me do, but all my complaining and grumpiness is completely justified. That’s what I tell myself.
It comes from wanting to much. It comes from being unhappy with my destiny. It’s completely different than the failures, and failure is inevitable, that provoke and motivate me to strain toward the prize.
When contentment is lost, I gain nothing but a bad attitude. I forget all the blessings that surround me. Simple pleasures are overlooked and I fail to recognize the joy I hold in my hands.
I forget to breathe.
I forget to see.
These spider lilies came up in my front yard. They wouldn’t have bloomed if the grass has been cut regularly. Some people call them surprise lilies because you never know where they might come up.
Surprise lilies don’t need special tending. A person doesn’t have to do anything to be graced with these flowers except allow them to be.
I didn’t even notice the flowers in the front yard until one of my kids told me about them. When I glanced out of the window, it was obvious surprise lilies were making an appearance. You can see the red from some distance, lacey flags of scarlet demanding attention before the season turns and they sleep under the ground once more.
I wonder how many other simple pleasures I’ve missed because I’m too busy being discontented to count my blessings.
How do you keep contentment?
I need to remember who I am, and who I am not. The comparison game is a contentment killer.
I need to recapture my ability to take joy in the simple things. Moments of beauty are fragile. They are like iridescent soap bubbles, reflecting the light in rainbow promises of better things that live on the edges of our perception,hints of the greater things we cannot see at present. Moments of beauty fly on whatever breeze exposed to, delicately ethereal, meant to be enjoyed in a fleeting space of time.
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