My husband and I first moved into our apartment because of the great view it afforded us — not of an apartment parking lot, which I have grown quite tired of — but of beautiful leafy green bushes and the Rocky Mountains.
Pitying myself for still living in an apartment, my view was my solace.
Not long after, there was more beeping. And another big green dumpster. And then another truck pulled up, and my new green neighbors were met with a shiny new Port-o-Let. I was less than thrilled.
It seems that our little view had become operating central for the crews that were methodically painting our entire apartment complex.
Each morning, instead of gazing out at my view and enjoying the chirping of the birds and the occasional sight of a fox bounding down the ditch, I gazed down at work crews banging in and out of the Port-o-Let and whistling along to the polka music blaring from the trucks. Again, less than thrilled.
As they moved in and got comfy, they got messier and messier. Trash flung here and there, half-started painting projects, and an overflowing dumpster.
Each day, instead of gazing past it all to the Rocky Mountains, which still loomed as tall as ever, I found my eyes fixated on this blight on my view.
These children are smiling and laughing, despite being surrounded by worse conditions.
I had developed tunnel vision, or garbage vision, only noticing each day not the incredible blessings of God around me — the trees and mountains and birds who still chirped along with the polka music — but only what was in my life that wasn’t right, that I didn’t want to be there.
God blesses me so much every day. Sometimes I see it, and other times I don’t see the blessings for the garbage. What’s your view? How do you remember the good God has given you instead of what’s still not quite right?