Like most people, I am a work in progress. When I discover something I don’t like about myself, I try to change it the best I can. Like Dr. Phil says, “We can’t change what we don’t acknowledge”.

So this past summer I learned something about myself. Or rather, I acknowledged something about myself that I really don’t care for.

I am a “fair weather” person. I mean literally. And figuratively. So many times I allow my surroundings to dictate my experiences.  Let me give you an example.

My granddaughter Lexi’s birthday is in July. This year on her eighth birthday she decided she wanted to have her birthday party at a nearby playground.  I hesitate to admit it, but I really wasn’t thrilled with her choice. The month of July in East Tennessee is hot. And humid. And mosquitos fly rampant.  And this wasn’t a beautiful park with shade trees and a running stream, this was simply a playground.

That hot and humid afternoon we gathered at the playground and celebrated Lexi’s birthday. Although, in truth, I didn’t do much celebrating at all.  While others were enjoying their grilled hot dogs, I was obsessing over how hot and uncomfortable I was. I focused on the sweat building up on my forehead and the heat from my hair on the back of my neck. The mosquito repellent that I purchased on the way there, had been omitted from the bag, so while others were watching Lexi unwrap her gifts, I was on the lookout for mosquitos trying to ravage my legs. I left the party at the first acceptable chance I could. All I could think about was air conditioning and a cold drink waiting for me at home.

Only later that evening after a cool shower and a cold drink did I reflect on my actions. Looking back, just because my creature comforts were not met, I didn’t allow myself to enjoy my granddaughters party. I failed to look beyond myself and capture the essence of the moment.

And I find that I’m not limited to just climate conditions interfering with my full, undivided participation in life. Small irritants like someone being too loud in a restaurant, or a fly circling my glass can distract me as well.

After that birthday party, I have become much more aware of my tendency to focus on the seemingly negative influences that made me create boundaries between me and my ability to enjoy life’s experiences.

Which brings me to today.

It’s Christmastime. What little shopping and wrapping I had to do is done. My little tree is decorated. These last few weekends I have most likely watched every Hallmark Christmas movie that  has ever been made. And as much as these things have put me in the Christmas spirit, I wanted to bring myself back to the root of what Christmas means to me; the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. So, I went to church this morning. The church my daughter Heather attends was having a Christmas musical presentation.

I set my alarm clock early not wanting to rush getting ready. I made time to eat breakfast. I left early in order to get a good seat. As I’m sitting down in the second row (center, I might add), I’m grateful that I got up and left early. This is a good seat. The room is beginning to fill up with the anticipated full house. I look toward the stage and there it is. Right smack in front of me. The biggest, baldest head I have ever seen. Oh no! It’s the fear every short person has – to get behind a big head. I began to get that vague dread that I was going to allow this small bump in the road, this distraction, to interfere with my Christmas experience. Was I going to disregard the reflex to focus on the negative or was this surely going to ruin the next hour for me?

So I closed my eyes and thought back about Lexi’s birthday party and all that I chose to ignore that day; Lexi’s smile, my grown children playing childhood games with their niece, and so much more. And as my eyes were closed and my mind replayed that day, around me the drums began to drum loudly, the sound rising up in my chest. (Literal drums, the program was beginning).

When I opened my eyes… well, the big bald head was still there. And as hard as it was to ignore, I found myself forgetting it was there. And by doing that, I was blessed with the most captivating, spiritually uplifting, experiences I’ve had in a long time.

So, the next time my fair weather tendency rears its ugly head, I will have today’s experience to look back on and know that I can overcome the impulse to focus on the negative. It’s a small step I know, but a step just the same.

Merry Christmas,

Cat