Shield Your Eyes From the Sun

I’d been frustrated by various things for most of the day. Little things just kept going wrong and making everything take longer, become more difficult, and ultimately upset me worse and worse. Usually it all just adds up and I lose my patience, which leads to my poor husband having no choice but to listen me rant about what a terrible day I’ve had.

This day was almost the same, but there was one small–yet very important–difference.

It was late in the afternoon and I felt like had already gotten nothing done for the day. I was attempting to care for my 10-month-old son, Graham, while simultaneously working in my “office” (read: a cluttered corner desk, jammed behind the couch in our living room). My husband had just left for his evening class. I was trying to print some return address labels so that I could ship an item from my online shop on time before the post office closed for the day. I designed a simple and elegant image, arranged everything in the template I had downloaded, and when I printed it, the labels and images didn’t match up like they did on the screen. It’s happened before. I sighed, opened Illustrator back up, and then measured the page of blank labels myself and proceeded to make my own template.

Every time I walked past my son he’d whine at me to pick him up. He had been playing by himself for a while, so it was probably time for some attention from Mommy. I picked him up, but he’s the most difficult baby to hold on to. He squirms and moves endlessly and doesn’t cling on like most babies will. This whole time I was trying to hold my squirmy baby in my arms, because if I set him down again he’d scream at me. He threw my computer mouse on the floor and did the same with my keyboard. He nearly grabbed my dSLR camera to drop on the floor. Any paper within reach went down as well. I got up, and as I walked over to the printer, he spit-up on the rug in the hallway. Just another thing to do that makes everything take longer.

I finally loaded up my purse, grabbed the diaper bag, got the return address labels and the items I needed to ship, all the while Graham is trying desperately to turn around and around in my arms. Loaded down like a donkey, I managed to squeeze through the baby safety gate and make it out the front door. I threw the bags into my car, wrestled Graham into his car seat, buckled myself in, and backed out of the driveway. While driving, I checked the clock, and knowing Graham’s bedtime schedule and routine, I only had time to go and come back because the lines at the post office are so long that I have never made it out of there in less than 30 minutes–especially right before they close.

I made it to the post office and as I pulled into a parking spot, it hit me: I failed to bring the address for where this is being mailed. But it’s in my email, so I go to pull my phone out of my purse only to discover that it’s not there either. It was sitting on my desk at home, right where I’d left it.

Cue the self-esteem plunge. I exhaled and slumped over, my head resting on the steering wheel. Wasted time. Wasted car trip. Wasted gasoline. Wasted money. Wasted energy. Wasted effort. All of the consequences of this easily avoidable mistake started flooding my mind. I realized that sitting there in the parking lot fuming at myself wouldn’t help, so I put my car in reverse and decided to just go home. I felt like I’d failed myself and a customer. I hold myself and my tiny business to a really high standard of quality—not just in my products and presentation of them, but also in my service. Being prompt and punctual matters to me because it’s part of my reputation. I began beating myself up in my mind because I had fallen short of that standard that day.

As I was lamenting over all of that, I suddenly heard Graham whine loudly, and I realized that we were on a long stretch of road that had the sun coming through the back windshield and shining right into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, honey!” I said to him as I reached back to shield his eyes with one hand. “That sun is so bright, isn’t it?”

A second later, I felt Graham grab onto my pinky finger and start waving my hand around like we were playing a game. Tears filled my eyes and I laughed, because that sweet, innocent boy didn’t have a clue about how upset I was with myself. All he knew was that he loves me and I love him. It’s not conditional on his mood or what has or hasn’t gone wrong during the day. He doesn’t focus on what’s frustrating or sad in life—he looks for everything that will make him smile and laugh. He sees the glass as half full. He sees something interesting in ordinary things. Everything is meant to be inspected, tasted, and tested out. And if it doesn’t bring a smile or a laugh, he’ll discard it for something else that will.

I realized then and there that I need to quit it with my negative attitude and focus on the good in life. There are good things everywhere, and I need to be better about discarding the negative and ruminate more on the positive.

Now, that’s not to say that unpleasant things should just be completely done away with, because we grow most as we persevere through difficult times. But if we focus on what makes life miserable, we’ll fail to recognize what makes going through the misery worth it in the end. If you don’t see any joy or happiness throughout a challenge, all you see is the tough stuff glaring you in the face–like the sun. Rather than letting the negative blind you from the positive, shield your eyes and mind from it. Take a moment and focus on what is good around you. If you truly look for it, you will see it. And what’s more, when you see the positive and good in hard situations, those miserable moments become easier to bear. 

I drove home with a new perspective. The sun was setting and everything was bathed in a gorgeous, golden light. I saw someone driving in the lane next to me politely let someone else into their lane. I saw people with smiles jogging down the street. I waved to some neighbors as I pulled onto our street.

When I walked inside, I tossed the item that I failed to mail onto my desk and decided that I would deal with it the following day. There was nothing else I could do for it at that moment, and dwelling on my failure wouldn’t get me anywhere good. Instead, I did something I wish I did more often.

For 30 blissful minutes, I sat on the floor with my son and enjoyed every second of his playful nature, his smiles, his laughs, and his beautiful blue eyes.

 

I preferred that over standing in line at the post office anyway.