My Perspective Corner

There is a spot in my house where I go when I need to gain some perspective. When I need to remember not to sweat the small stuff and to recognize how small most of my stuff is, this is where I sit. I thought of calling it my Suck It Up corner, because that's more in line with who I am, but "Perspective" had a nicer ring to it.

It wasn't a place that I created; it was a place that I discovered.

One day, I was sitting at a table in my kitchen sighing dramatically at my stress and frustration about some thing. I happened to glance up and to my left to the colorful painting hanging there. That artwork was painted by a dear friend who had just lost her seventeen year old son in a car accident. She painted it at one of those fellowship and fun sorts of art classes. It was one of her very first outings after the death and funeral of her precious son. She wrote me a dear note thanking me for teaching her son on the back of the frame where the canvas was stretched. (I was teaching his homeschool chemistry class at the time of his death.) The vivid colors and the optimistic subject matter, a vase of whimsical flowers, belie the pain my friend must have been feeling as she painted. My problem seemed a lot smaller in the reflection of this moment of heartache captured in acrylics.

I looked through the open door into the entry way where hangs another reminder of the smallness of my problems. Another gift from a fellow mama--a plate beautifully hand-painted with the text of Philippians 4:13: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." This is another mama in the midst of hardship that is difficult for me to even imagine. Along with her husband and three children, she is visiting the United States seeking treatment for her husband's pancreatic cancer. One of her daughters is blind, among a number of other serious health issues. She has come to this country with very little English, caring for a very ill husband and daughter, and yet, she has the courage to paint Philippians 4:13 for ME. The same day I received the plate from mom, the daughter, one of my students in a church program, gave me a precious note in Braille, which has become one of my most treasured posessions.

That day, as I sat on that stool in my kitchen, I realized just how insignificant my problems were. I realized the value of perspective and thanked God for placing these two reminders right in front of my eyes where they would be impossible to miss. I made a mental note, and now, when I begin to feel under water with cares, responsibilities, and stresses, I go back to that table, pull up a stool, and put my problems next to these two measuring sticks. It doesn't take too long for my perspective to adjust itself.

I'm so thankful for these two women who, in the midst of their own trials, gifted me with these two objects, which have taken on so much more meaning than they probably intended in the first place.