On Mother's Day, my brothers and
sisters embraced technology and had a video chat with our mom. From
all over the country, in three different time zones, it was almost
like being together. Of course, when we are all together, we
catch up and tell stories. We're not one of those families who talk
on the phone often so this is how we piece together details of each
other's lives.
One brother was talking about being on
the other side of a rough time in his life and likened it to being in
a swamp. He just kept wading through it, pulling his feet out of the
mud, until he got to the bank and dry land. He knew he was in the
swamp and that it wasn't fun, but his focus was on the solid ground
ahead. Once there, he had no interest in lamenting the fact that
he'd been in the swamp and was just continuing to move forward.
This brought my mother to talk about
particularly tough times when she felt like she was crawling up a
steep bank. Anyone watching from the distance couldn't see it, but
she knew she was making progress and kept at it with her slow and steady
climb to get out of that ditch.
I think most of us can identify with
tough situations. The difference, I think, is perspective. I know I
have had no shortage of muddy swamps, steep ravines, and potential
quicksand pits in my life. I've always made it back to solid land.
I have faith that I always will. So far, so good. I'm not going to
pretend that wading through the mud is fun. I'm not sure I know what
I'm doing or where I'm going, but I'm sure that I can get there if my
focus is clear.
I often tell friends going through
tough times that they should wallow. I stand by that. Sometimes,
when you're in the muck, you just need to roll around in it. Wallow
in it until you can't stand it any longer. Then, crawl your way out,
shower off the stench, and keep moving on dry land.
Times are rough for a lot of people right now. A lot of us
are standing in the mud wondering how we got there and how we get
out. Everyone's muddy bog is different and the ways out are up to
each of us. I'm finding myself back in a familiar place. The mud is
thick and heavy, and I think I lost my shoe, but I'm looking up to
find the sun, I'm looking forward to find my path, and I'm moving
towards the bank. When I get there, I know that I'll be met with the
open arms of the people who have always been there for me.
They will cheer me on and pull me up
and out. They'll hose me off, find my shoe, and probably give me a
hot meal. That's where my focus lies. The dry land and the people I
love. I don't need to stop in the swamp to pity my situation. I
just need to keep moving.
Later, after a shower and a sandwich, maybe
I'll have a story to tell about the frog who jumped on my head or the
damned mosquitoes, but I'll never complain about having been there.
I'm pretty sure that everyone who has ever been stuck in the mud has
a funny tale or a lesson learned on the other side. The best part is almost always finding the way out.
