Perspective From The Bathroom Floor.

I hate cleaning toilets. I hate it. I have four boys, ‘nuff said. Their bathroom is reminiscent of urinal meets boys locker room. Probably because my little diabetics wake up throughout the night to pee, and are seriously not in the moment enough to aim properly. It’s a battle I am yet to win, and a Dirty Job Mike Rowe has yet to accept.

So I was cleaning the toilet the other day and had somewhat of an epiphany.
Mundane, arduous tasks are not mundane and arduous when done with the right perspective.

Bear with me here…

As much as I hate cleaning the toilet, (Oh, I loathe it…) yesterday, it was OK. I was happy to. Not that I have come accustomed to the accostment of my five senses…it’s just that I was appreciative of my calling as a mother. I was appreciative that I could clean the toilet, and that I was doing our family a service. (A thankless and cruelly repetitive service, but a service none the less.)

I know…Meri is going to her special place again…but it’s important to note that I came upon this change of perspective after hearing of the untimely death of a close friend last week. His unexpected passing shook my soul to the core. When something like that smacks you out of nowhere, it wakes you up. I was wandering aimlessly in my self-absorbed fog, and now it has lifted. I see things clearer now. I am blessed…so ridiculously overwhelmingly blessed. I have a frustrating life for sure, but this life is so precious.

Perspective. Do you believe in an afterlife? I do. If you do, than it is reasonable to think that our time here on earth is a dot on the big canvas of “life.” If you are one that goes one step further, and believes we are here for a purpose, is that purpose to give up to the fog, or is it to rise above? A diabetic life can suck you into a black hole, a place where we forget to look up and see the beautiful life directly in front of us. The fog, the tsunami, it is all looming this time of year. But for me, for now, the storm clouds are clearing and the sun is shining on my face.

Bring on the toilets...

And as a wise songstress once sang…”Tomorrow’s another day, and I’m thirsty anyway, so bring on the rain!”