Acceptance

My wife and I took the dog for a walk this morning (Lake Wintergreen, one of our favorite walking places). Spring is very slowly making its way to Connecticut, and green buds are just barely popping out on the trees.

Still, the morning sun on the water was just stunning.

We walk around our neighborhood every morning, at least 2 miles. It's pleasant enough, but every now and then, a "forest bath" is good for us. It makes us think a little differently, maybe a little clearer. It helps us make connections that we hadn't seen before.

I made one of those connections this morning.

As we got near the end of our walk, we both saw the same thing -- a small evergreen. 

Now, as you can see from the photos, there are lots of big, beautiful evergreens around the lake, but most of them are on the opposite side from where we were. Near where we were, there are lots of tall grasses, with swifts and red-winged blackbirds perched and diving. 

So this little evergreen kind of stood out, sitting there all by itself.

 

If you've been reading for a while, you might remember that I get this kind of feeling every year around this time. There's a particular daffodil that pops up every year in my thorny blackberry patch (I've written about it a few times in the past). It always gives me hope to see something so beautiful thrive among the difficulties that thorns represent.

That little evergreen gave me some similar feelings this morning. 

It's not surrounded by thorns, or anything dangerous. It's just the opposite -- on one side is a gravel path, and on the other is a bunch of rocks leading down to the water.

As my wife and I looked out onto the lake from that spot, I said, "That little evergreen looks like it doesn't belong her."

And my wife said, "Yeah, but at the same time, it seems to be making the best of where it is."

And that was the connection.

The evergreen seems to have accepted its place. Probably not what it would have chosen, if it had a choice, but it's doing its best with where it is.

Accepting something doesn't mean liking it. It's OK to wish for something else, to ask "Why Me?" and wonder how things might have been different. 

But it's possible to do those things and accept where you are, too. 

I'm not trying to be overly optimistic here. I'm not saying cancer patients need to always smile and see the good in it. I've heard people say that getting cancer was a gift, and it changed their lives for the better. If that's the case, that's great. It's probably easier to feel that way after it's al over. Harder to think of cancer a s a gift when you're in the middle of it.

But I do think that acceptance is important. As some point, if anything is going to change, you need to acknowledge where you are. Maybe that helps you see what's around you, and see where you want to be instead. Standing firmly in one place, even for a short time, can help you figure all of that out. That's acceptance. 

That doesn't mean wanting to stay in that place. Maybe your next move is to kick and scream and do whatever you can to be somewhere else. That's OK, too.

And probably easier for us to move somewhere else, physically or emotionally, than it is for that little evergreen.

I hope you're all able to enjoy some beautiful weather, wherever you are. I recommend a change of scenery when you're able. 

It's a nice way to recognize where you are , and to see where you might be able to go.