You know how they say it’s all in your perspective? Well, it is. For instance, I own all the land my eyes can survey, because of my back fence. Yes. I’m swinging on the porch swing realizing that I am queen of the backyard (as well as the third grade, but we won’t go into that)! I can’t see any land beyond what I (well, the bank) own. I swing away my tense muscles and thank God for the first day of summer. No, it isn’t the 21st of June already. It’s the first day after school is out, and anyone with a tittle of sense knows thaat.
But I digress. Perspective. When you were eight and your sister got the big half, you were all bummed out. But you should not have been. Because now your sister is wearing that bigger half on her hips, and you are not. Well, you may be wearing something else on your hips, but not THAT half. Actually, if we replace our cells every so often, maybe neither of us is wearing what we ate when we were eight. Little homophone there. However, I believe there may be a few Oreos on my hips. They were calling me. Crud, why did I bring this up, now I’m thinking about what I’m wearing on my hips. Father, thank you for my big old peasant hips. I know you must have a reason for my procilvity to big buttism. Now let me think, what could that be?
There I go again, down a rabbit trail. Come back, come back. One more perspective and I will have made the requisite three proof comments. OK, I live in an older neighborhood, which is something of a euphemism for there are druggies hanging around down by the bus stop. I have several choices about this, and they all rest in perspective. I could say to Bake, the husband of 43 years, an adorable old guy with white hair and a hat and goatee that make him look kind of like Col. Sanders. OH, there I go again, off in the ether (don’t you love these metaphors/idioms, me too). Anyhow, I could say to Bake, we gotta move outa here. Someone is going to come in and steal all our stuff. Stuff, now that’s another thought. Where your stuff is, there will your heart be also. My heart is here – I guess that’s perspective. Well, if my heart is here, then I guess those irritating people next door who play their radio just loud enough for it to keep waking me up until 2 in the morning when they decide to finally go to bed,  are my neighbors. Doesn’t that just irritate the crud out of you? Love your neighbors. Hmmm, perspective. A lot of my neighbors are getting old, they don’t play as much as they used to. Hmmm, perspective. Maybe I better watch out for them a little more. Crud, now I’m a social worker. Ooooorrrrr, I could open a halfway house for those druggies. Boy, the neighbors would love that! Not to mention what my Col. Sanders look-alike would say.  Halfway to where? And what would God think of me going back into the fixer business without asking Him what He thinks. I have been practicing in that area. Asking Him what He thinks before I roar off into some great idea, I mean. Perspective, I guess it’s not all in my perspective after all. It’s all in His. So never mind my previous comments. (Hear me laughing?)

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