Leaving work late on a fall afternoon, this is what I saw:
It reminded me of the story of a girl who, every evening, looked out her window at the house on the other side of the valley. It was a beautiful house with golden windows and she yearned to live there. Her own home was drab and ordinary.
One day she was able to walk across the valley to look at the beautiful house. To her dismay, when she got there, she discovered the house was run-down and abandoned. The windows were not golden after all, but cracked and dirty.
When she turned to walk home, she gasped with astonishment. The sunset reflected in the windows of her own home, golden and beautiful. It was just the place she'd always dreamed of living.
This girl could be me. It seems I've always lived my life this way, being envious of what other people have, feeling like what I have is never enough. Envying other people's golden windows while being oblivious to my own.
When I catch myself feeling this way, I try to imagine myself an outsider looking into my life, a stranger peering through the windows (in a non-creepy way). Would I wish to be a part of the life I saw?
The answer is always yes.
Because while that outsider looking in might see my dirty house, our unpatched ceiling, my mismatched furniture, my children throwing fits about how "mean" I am, they would also see the things I too often overlook, perhaps because they're so everyday: a long, slow kiss, plates of food spread across our dinner table, laughter, bedtime stories.
Sometimes to see our blessings we have to step outside and look in.
Perspective changes everything,
The Brown-Eyed Girl
