What we choose

I told a friend of mine once that we all get the life we choose. I've been pondering that ever since I said it. Is it true? Do we get the life we choose? I mean, I'm not living the life I want to. Did I choose this?

The answer is a qualified yes. I did choose this life even if I didn't know I was just as other people made their choices that affected me as mine did theirs. We made the choices that led here. Not gifted with foresight, we made what we thought were good choices at the time.

No one minds dying if they think they're going to be a hero and fondly remembered. Then they get to be noble. That's easy. Instead, we wrestle with the day to day. The nothingness. The endless ritual of baths and laundry and clothes and meals and work and chores and parenting and and and and and ...

Being a hero isn't necessarily hard. Many unexpected people rise to the occasion when it's before them. But it's the everyday life that we struggle with. The endless hours. The meaningless moments that stretch until the days bury hope. The people who face the day after day are brave, too. They might not think they are, but they are.

So this is me lifting my cup to all those who struggle: to K. who hates his job but is afraid to leave; to G. who is struggling with her family and her life and losing a dream; to M. who thinks she isn't worthy and really is; to H. who's been afraid her whole life to live but still keeps trying; to K., S., and J. who are struggling with mid-life; to everyone who rolls out of bed each day and gets their kids to school and goes to work and cares for their fellow man; to the people who bring unexpected doughnuts; to all the unpublished writers who keep putting the words down on paper; to all of you, may God keep and richly bless you in all the ways that you deserve.

And maybe when He's bestowing these graces, He'll send a few my way.