A Matter of Choice

A few years ago, I found myself a repeated bird’s-eye target.

The first occasion happened while my family and I were attending a baseball game.  It was a hot and humid summer’s eve, and I had a cold drink in hand to quench my thirst.  As I paused between sips, my beverage suddenly splashed, and I looked down to discover that my cup had become a makeshift port-a-potty for a bird flying above.

“Yuck, new drink please!”

The next time occurred a couple of months later while my family and I were milling around at an outdoor venue.  As we were casually walking along the sidewalk, my arm became the target for a winged one’s mid-air waste deposit.

“Seriously, again?”

My family and I had a good laugh about this second misfortune as I wiped my arm clean and carried on with our evening’s festivities.

A few months after that, while visiting an amusement park with my family, I again had the pleasure of being graced with a feathered friend’s overhead disposal.

And once again, I wiped away the mess and laughed along with my family at the absurdity of this third occurrence, wondering how I was so fortunate to keep receiving these gifts from the sky!

Unfortunately, in this case, the third time was not the charm.  For a fourth time within a year’s span, while visiting Central Park Zoo in NYC, I yet again found myself the landing ground for falling fowl droppings.

At this point my kids laughed hysterically and said, “Mom keeps getting pooped on!”

Oh the truth and the irony of that statement.

I’m sure all moms can relate.  We moms get pooped on quite a bit, figuratively speaking.

And now it was happening to me literally!  I couldn’t help but wonder if there was some hidden message, some greater point that my loving Creator was trying to drive home to me.

I don’t know if it was divine reinforcement or happenstance, but it did make me take pause to consider.

First of all, if someone had to be the target, I was glad it was me and not my kids.  I think many moms (and dads) would agree.  That’s what we do – we sacrifice our comfort, our wants and our desires for the needs and protection of our family.

Secondly, each time that I found myself the unwilling target of birdie bombs, I could have grown increasingly agitated.  I mean, once you can overlook, twice maybe, three times is pushing it … but four times, come on, man!

However, instead of becoming frustrated or bitter, I just laughed more and more each time along with my family.  It became something that we joked about.  It was something that cemented those times together in my memory.  In the midst of the bad, there was good – there was laughter, love and family.

I wish I could say that’s how I had often reacted to situations, but I realized it wasn’t.  How often had I let life’s demands overwhelm me and discourage me?  How often had I allowed the messes of life to pile up and weigh me down instead of laughing things off and wiping the slate clean?

Let’s face it, in life, we’re going to get “pooped on”.  It’s not a matter of if, but when.

And when it happens, we have a choice to make.  We can choose to see the bad, or we can choose to see the good.  We can choose to wallow in the stink of our misfortune, or we can choose to rise above the muck.  We can choose to be the victim, or we can choose to be the overcomer.

While we may not have a choice in the matter of our circumstances, we do have a matter of choice in how we respond.

One choice brings despair and bondage, the other choice brings hope and freedom.

May we choose wisely.

“A miserable heart means a miserable life; a cheerful heart fills the day with song.” Proverbs 15:15 (MSG)