They probably think they are sharing with us. Maybe they get upset when I pick the harvest to make jam, but I doubt it. They have a better view of things, and I don’t mean simply sight. 

It’s easy to measure the haves and have-nots with money. With things. But there is a larger currency at play. There is an absence of heart. Of soul. Not because someone else got a larger share. No one’s dream fulfilled takes away your dream, nor takes the fruit from your tree. The sky is not filled with, “but she got,” and “he gets to”…no, the blue flutters with hope on wings. 

It was my grandfather who taught me first. Whenever I felt worry closing in, he told me to focus not just on something else, but someone else. At first hearing, I thought he didn’t understand. So I foolishly continued. “But my cousins got bows and arrows from Target, and we don’t have a Target, and I don’t…” “So go play with them,” he said. I watched my feet hit the dirt in the driveway. They had everything, I thought, and now I was supposed to give them my attention as well. At first I simply walked after the wayward arrows. (Because they weren’t aiming at anything, only watching the beautiful flight.) Then I began running them back. It wasn’t long before Shawn gave me a turn. A fling of the winged wood. Hope and love and friendship and joy danced in the air. And I had everything.

I look around our world. We seem to be spending far too much time kicking the dirt.