This or Something Better

Or, “It’s a good life if you can get it”

I’ve had a good life.

There are a lot of things I could talk about that might paint a different picture. A father who abandoned me and my mother, before I was born. A stepfather who beat my mother so badly that she had to have her jaw wired shut, and then popped one-year-old me a couple of times, so that I had some nice bruises, too. A lifetime of close family members, whom I loved and trusted, lying to me about who my father was, and denying me to anyone who might ask. I might even lament finding out in my late 30s that I had a birth defect in my heart, and had to get a pacemaker. Or, I could tell you about every father in my life leaving. Men who either left because they didn’t want the responsibility, left because they didn’t know how to keep a relationship going, or left because their time on this mortal plane had come to an end.

That last one always felt like the worst betrayal of all.

The thing is, nothing in the paragraph above makes me or anyone else all that special. It’s a whole lot of “so what.”

So what, my father left before I was born?

So what, my stepfather left after the divorce, then blamed me for not staying in touch?

So what, my grandfather passed away? Everyone has to go sometime.

It’s so what because it’s life. It is what life looks like, when you turn off the Instagram filters. Sometimes dark and ugly. Sometimes sad and lonely. Sometimes you find out you have a defective heart. Sometimes you learn you have a disease. Sometimes you lose your livelihood. Sometimes you lose the big break you’d waited and worked and hoped and prayed for, and it leaves you with nothing.

Almost nothing.

I won’t make light of anyone’s pain. Suffering is something I wish I could eliminate. For me. For you. I wish—I really do—that I had the power to set things right. Correct the evil that was done to you. Fix the brokenness inside you. I don’t have that power. I can’t do it.

Sometimes, I wonder what God is thinking. Why is He abandoning me? Why is He torturing me? Is my suffering a penance? Did I do something so horribly wrong in my life that I have to lose literally everything to make up for it? Have I hurt others so badly that the only cure is to feel constant dread and anxiety? To feel constantly abandoned and betrayed? To feel lonely and alone and abandoned.

You get it. I see you there, reading and nodding. “I’ve felt that,” you’re thinking.

I’m not psychic. Mostly.

No… I’m just human. Like you.

All the same Band-Aids on all the same skinned knees. All the same tissues to dry all the same tears. All the same turns in the night, instead of sleeping. Been there. Still there. Still doing all that.

I can’t make it right for you. God can, but I’ll warn you… it’s going to feel an awful lot like He’s saying, Nah. Not yet. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Maybe He is.

But here’s something I’ve had to come to grips with. Something that takes me by surprise every time, because somehow I forget. Somehow I eat the lotus flowers, forget everything, lose all desire to return home. You do, too.

I forget that, despite everything—and, somehow, maybe because of everything—I have a good life.

Warm sunshine on a cool day. Fresh air coming in through an open window. A tiny dog pressing herself against my leg. A hot cup of good coffee. A walk along a wooded path. The sound of children and parents in a park. A crowd of happy people chatting in a coffee shop. An unexpected post card from an old friend. The feel and the sound of keyboard keys clacking under my fingertips as I write to you. My reader. My friend. My family.

Look what a good life this is.

I have every excuse in the world to look at the progression of my days and my life and my circumstances and declare, “This sucks. Things are terrible. I’d rather die than have to keep facing this.”

You do, too.

But I’ll make a deal with you. When either of us thinks anything like that, we’ll become warriors. Defiant. Members of the Resistance. When the Great Ugly of life steps in our path and tells us to get out of the way, we will look that ugly beast in the eye and say, no. You move.

And we will turn our eyes to glory. We will notice that dad lifting his daughter so she can see the squirrels. We’ll focus on that beautiful oak tree across the way. We’ll daydream about taking a nap in its shade. We’ll make ourselves the best cup of coffee we’ve ever had. We’ll sip wine at sunset, and read a good book until we’re too sleepy to keep our eyes open.

We’ll hold a door for a dozen strangers in a row.

We’ll pick up a piece of trash and throw it away proper.

We’ll hear that song playing overhead and hum along.

We’ll smile, say kind words, wave hello, offer to help carry groceries, offer to reach something on the top shelf.

We’ll do good and we’ll be good. Because we are good.

And so is our life.

HAVE YOU HEARD THE SILENCE?

The Silence Between Signals is my new novella, exploring a world where reality has been replaced by a virtual realm, where we own nothing and we are happy. Until one day, Carter finds himself locked out of that digital landscape, and forced to rebuild his life outside the Signal. And what he discovers is haunting, and horrifying, and more than he could ever have dreamt of in his previous life. And now, it’s up to him to save us all.

Read The Silence Between Signals now.

A NOTE AT THE END

I’m impatient at the moment. There are things I’m waiting for. Prospects and opportunities and promises. Prayers I’m waiting to see answered.

And, weirdly, some of them have been answered. It’s just… well…

They don’t look like what I had in mind.

They look so different, in fact, that it took me a minute to realize what they were.

My prayers, answered.

A different paint job than what I had in mind. It’s built on a slightly different frame. Those seats aren’t quite what I was picturing. It doesn’t have quite the same features as what was on my list.

But… yeah… okay. I see it now. The shape of it. I prayed for this or something better. And God went all Princess Bride on me.

As you wish.

That’s how it goes, sometimes. Part of that “good life” I talked about earlier. Sometimes you get the something better, and you might be so focused on what you thought you wanted that you don’t recognize the good thing you got. Not at first. Sometimes, maybe never.

I think that’s fine. It makes life special. Full of surprises.

I’ll take a lifetime of something better.

It means all that much more.