I rise slowly in the slight light of a half-moon shining above the thin clouds that drift solemnly toward the east. The breeze that has pushed in with colder air keeps the grass in the pasture bare of frost. I see the neighbors’ lights shining through the naked branches beyond the creek and along the line of the bluff. Taking a moment for my head to clear, I steer my steps along the hallway.
There is risk in rising too quickly these days. Too sudden a shift from flat to standing can make the room spin. Deliberation has long been a slow lesson for me, I suppose. Too much inclination toward decisiveness, too little time taken for consideration of other factors.
Life has a way of taking us toward what we need to learn, bringing us back to the same lesson until finally some semblance of humility replaces the stubbornness that seems so deeply bred within us. I’ve not mastered the lesson yet but have at least confronted the possibility that yielding can take me toward strength greater than that of triumph.
I have found from time to time that giving up on what I wanted has given me better than I deserved. Perhaps, one day, I may become able to actually seek the good of others. And, in that moment, receive the greater gift.