Perspective

I was thinking just yesterday about some of my earliest adventures at the beach. They involved  tide pools and  little stick leg birds that roam the shore in flocks. When you are very small, such flocks of birds look both pretty and soft, especially when you watch their feathers blow in the breeze.  And when you are very small, these birds do not see you as much threat, surrounded as they are all summer by people of all shapes and sizes. Walking or running, they will allow a little one to get within a fingertip's touch before they fly up and land again a few feet away.

One of my first very positive opinions of myself was garnered through these birds. I knew I had bad ankles; I had to see the doctor about them. But I also knew that I was a great runner. Fabulous. Super-fast.  I knew this because when I was running after those beach birds, wind blowing my hair, my legs pumping, kicking up sand behind me, I was the essence of speed, because I always ALMOST caught them. As an only child, who did not attend pre-school (pre-k wasn't common way back then), I did not have races with other children, only those birds. And I knew those birds were fast! I had watched many other children try and touch them, only to fail like I did. But oh! How close I got! That must mean I was a natural born runner. Why, I could all but fly myself!

It wasn't until school that my opinion of my own speed changed.  Because it wasn't until then that I raced with other children my age. Imagine my surprise when I found out that I wasn't the fastest at all, in fact, with my flat feet and in-turned ankles, I was just about at the back of the pack! This was a change in perspective.  My running had not changed. I still loved to feel the wind in my face and pump my legs as fast as they would go. It was my scenery that changed; it was the backdrop of my comparison. I'd gone from looking at stick-leg birds at the beach, to classmates to decide how fast I truly was.

I wish I could say that this change of perspective didn't take away the confidence those silly birds had given me, but I was only a child, and it did. As an adult though, I can take that lesson and realize that I now have some choice in my own perspective. I get to choose my measuring stick for my self and my life. I can compare myself to others who have "more" than I do or I can change my perspective to something more positive, like the fact I live so near the beach and will be able to take my little girl to chase the stick legs birds too. It won't matter how fast or slow she walks, runs or crawls at them. They will still let her get just a fingertip away before they fly off and lead her on another merry chase.

Personally, I want that wind-in-my face confidence back that I'm good at what I'm doing, no...even great at living my life! I desire that childish freedom to believe in myself that the world seems so keen to take away with its "facts". I am tired of the doubt, the worry, the fear that slips its way into my adult life as I wonder about money, and appointments and other pointless things that either will or will not work out. I want to once again, believe I can almost fly. And now, with the benefit of adult wisdom, I realize that is all up to me. Its all up to what and who I want to compare myself to, what perspective I want to give my thinking.  Why is it so hard for us humans to believe the best about ourselves? Well, I believe that I can begin the process of changing my perspective one little thought at a time.  My daughter deserves that. She deserves the best me and the best environment I can provide for her.  After a few changes to the calendar, she is scheduled to arrive at noon on August 29th.  That means I have the next 28 days to build more than a pretty nursery for her. I will be building my perspective as well.

"For as [a person] thinks in his heart so is he." Proverbs 23:7