ducks on a pond
I always so actively share the bad, the negative, and the difficult aspects of my life, that I probably leave the impression that there is no goodness or happiness to be found here. This could not be farther from the truth.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a perfectly good or a perfectly bad anything. There’s always a mixture of goods and not-so-bads and, sometimes, bads and not-so-goods. But all-in-all my life is pretty fantastic.
I have a good job.
I complain about it a lot, it takes up a lot of my time, and the work has slowly declined from “interesting and exciting” to “life-threateningly dull”.
But it’s a job. A good job that earns me lots of respect and a very decent wage. In these hard times, that’s saying a lot. And every day I get closer and closer toward self-employment.
I have a house.
I complain about it a lot, parts of it are too empty, and other parts of it are too full. It doesn’t have enough storage space, the kitchen doesn’t have enough light, and the walls that surround the kitchen aren’t as open as I’d like them to be. My yard is insane, and no matter what I do I can’t seem to keep the weeds at bay.
But, it’s a nice house. It’s mine. It’s provides shelter for Celeste and I and gives me the freedom to offer a bed for the night, or a room for the month to friends and family. My neighborhood is safe to walk in and is spotted with beautiful parks and a pool. I’m a short drive from a great number of city and state parks if I want to get even further out.
I have a nice car. A very nice car.
It’s not perfect. It’s not luxury. It costs too much. It’s not exactly what I want.
But it’s safe, it’s comfortable, it’s gets me around, it holds everything I need, and has room for 2-5 more people (depending on how much you like to squish). Plus it gets decent gas mileage and has good 4-wheel drive when needed.
I have a beautiful, smart, amazing daughter who loves me very much.
I complain about how hard it is to be a single dad, or how cranky she can get when she is being thrown back and forth from home to home with two different sets of rules and two different schedules. I complain about how much I miss her when she’s not around.
But our time together is amazing. We teach each other so much and she brings so much joy to every second I am with her. She is the brightest spot in my every day. She makes me want to be a better person and reminds me that the simple pleasures in life are often the greatest.
I have a small handful of very good friends.
I complain a lot about how people never drive to visit me. How they don’t understand what it’s like to try to kill time with a toddler because they couldn’t get their ass ready in time to be where they said they’d be when they said they’d be there. I complain about how it never seems to be fair or even and how the supposed two-way streets of friendship often seem to have traffic going in only one direction.
But… that isn’t all of my friends. There are some who call or email just to check in on me. Some that that offer to cook me dinner, even in my own home, for no reason other than that they’d like to see me. I know at least 3 moms that I communicate with on a nearly daily basis that love and care for their children in ways very similar to my own. I have great respect for them and offer as much of myself to them as I can. They offer me support and kindness and friendship and even an innocent flirt from time to time. The remind me that no one is perfect and every day is its own success and its own reward. They welcome Celeste and me into their families and often reach out to us when they feel we are too distant or that we might be in need of company. I have other friends, with and without kids, that genuinely care and regularly offer themselves into my life in various capacities. Though they may not be numerous, what they lack in quantity they surely make up for in quality.
One friend in particular, who happens to be an amazing mom of four kind, beautiful children, said this to me yesterday when I was particular upset that turned my entire day around.
Daniel, very very few people love or care as much or as deeply as you do. You are one of the most caring people I have ever come to know.
All of these words to say, my life is quite good. While, more often than not, my complaints are valid, if you should find yourself on the receiving end of my venting, after expressing a little compassion and understanding, you should probably kick me in the ass and remind me that my life really is fantastic.
(I chose this photograph because, just like my life, it is not perfect. But it’s beautiful, and full, and enjoyable just the same.)
