Light

Scout is my dog’s name. Wild, crazy, lover of all things fun!

When she was a puppy she got into the mud in the backyard. Fun! And proceeded to fling it on all my walls as she ran through the entire house. Fun! As she got older she mellowed out. Instead of mud flinging, she settled into her daily naps.

Until she found the light.

A few months ago Scout started to notice reflections on the walls. Sometimes they would come from rays of light from the sun, other times they would come from a watch reflection, or my iPhone reflection. She would chase the reflection all around the house. Often times I would tease her and twist the reflection around the room as quickly as possible. She never took her eyes off the light.

Recently, I have found her staring at the ceiling or walls waiting intently for the light to come back, and when it does her gaze does not falter. Food doesn’t even distract her from the light. It’s funny because at first I found her obsession very annoying and then I heard myself today.

I said, “Gosh, Scout never loses sight of the light. She is always searching for it, always waiting for it.”

You see, Scout was completely content with her naps. Life was easy and full in her eyes; she had no idea what she was missing. Yet once she found the light, she became obsessed with seeking more light; never losing sight of it. And it made me wonder how many of us are content with our full lives, not knowing what we are missing.

 I have another dog, Bear. He searches for the light as well, but he isn’t as intent. He will run to it when it is there, but if it isn’t present, he doesn’t wait for it. This made me wonder, which am I? Am I constantly searching for the light; waiting for it when it isn’t there or am I like, Bear, where I will run to it when it’s there, but I won’t seek it out?

There is something beautiful about light. It makes us feel safe when darkness surrounds us. Nothing can hide in it. It glitters and catches the eye. There is just something intrinsically appealing to light. We are all drawn to it… and yet I wonder how persistent am I in seeking it?

Love

  
     You see, I don't mean to, but sometimes I find that my sassy mouth gets me into trouble. To be honest, my mouth is probably my greatest weakness; the worst thing about me. I always have good intentions, but before I can think twice, words start spouting out of my mouth. That is what happened to me in a meeting this week. I was sitting in the meeting trying very hard to keep my mouth shut, but about half way through the meeting I couldn't take it anymore. My mouth opened and I knew trouble was headed my way. After ruffling a few feathers, I finally thought to myself, Sheila, shut your mouth. Stop talking right now. You always get yourself into trouble. And so I stopped talking for the rest of the meeting.  Yes, trouble followed after; my darn mouth.

     As I walked back to my classroom, scolding myself in my head, one of my co-workers who was also in the meeting stopped me. I knew that he could tell that I was frustrated more with myself than at anything. I mean, really, can't I ever just keep my mouth shut? He looked me straight in the eyes and he said, "Sheila, don't ever stop being YOU. Keep being YOU because we need more of YOU here." I laughed because being "me" was what got me into trouble in the first place. Being "me" was what ruffled feathers and caused conflict. Being "me" was the last thing I wanted to be right then. I was tired of my weaknesses getting the best of me. And yet, here my co-worker was standing there choosing to see the best in me; choosing to see my weakness as a strength and encouraging me to be "me" even after he had seen a moment of my worst.

     His words were simple, "Keep being you!" But it was enough. He cared simply because I was me. I stood in the hallway silenced, wondering how often I have seen the worst in somebody and then written them off. It's easy to see the worst in someone, harder to see their worst as good. And yet, that is what my co-worker had done. He saw the best.

   I walked into my classroom and thought to myself,  Now that is love; to see their worst and, yet, choose to see it as their best.