I would like to think that I’m leading a somewhat outstanding life. I’d like to believe that when I look in the mirror in the morning the person staring back at me is honest, loving and above reproach. I’d like to believe this because when I go out on the streets and see those who aren’t, I have something to talk about.
When I witness those who are struggling; can’t pay their bills on time, can’t keep their husband from stepping out, dealing with a child addicted to…anything, I can shake my head. I choose to believe that the way I raise my kids, love my husband and handle my business is solid and right and folks all around me admire me not only for my efforts but envy me for the amazing job I’m doing. It makes it so much easier for me to cock up my feet at night and get on the phone with my girl and give play by play about how you-know-who hasn’t seen her child in days and I don’t know why she stays broke. Yep it’s all so easy to do.
But funny thing, when I take a second look at myself in the mirror I reflect back on some events in my life that I’d tucked safely away in the recesses of my spirit. Stuff I don’t talk about anymore because the memories have faded like something left out in the sun for too long and it doesn’t seem important to bring up anymore; stuff that I’ve exonerated myself for with the excuse that I was young, didn’t know any better or it was somebody else’s fault.
So this morning before I stepped out of the house I left the stones I’d planned on throwing and clothed myself with humility and understanding and realized the world was a much more beautiful place this way.
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