On the Side | Brad Hicks
When I was a young man, I never understood why people seemed to cling to the terrible things that happened in their lives. There were things they could not get past, things that lingered in their psyche that affected their personal interaction with others. They let these past events dominate them.
There is a scene in “The Lion King” during which Rafiki, the all-knowing priestly baboon, whacks a sulking Simba the lion prince atop the head. “Hey, that hurts,” Simba says. “Why did you do that?” Rafiki answers, “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.” The point, Rafki says, is “the past hurts” but you can either run from it, or learn from it – and perhaps left unsaid, learn from it and live.
Over the past decade or so, there have been events that re-shaped my life. These have impacted friends, family, finances, and frankly, faith. I’ve gone from that over-positive, move-forward kid to a person who too often measures things in what-mighta-shoulda-coulda-woulda-beens. There was a point a few years ago that while driving home from a family visit somewhere, I made a remark to my wife about some of my feelings. “How’s that working out for you?” she said, pointedly. After being quiet for a while, I answered, “It’s not.”
The roles had changed. I was now the person hanging on to things, who was letting them dominate, who was sulking and sinking.
I really thought a change in scenery – a change in place – would help. But it didn’t. I dove deeper into the Good Book, but my heart wasn’t right. The Bible is not a self-help book – it’s a book about leading the worshipful life, and I was too deep into myself and trying to fix things that my hardened and hurt heart wouldn’t absorb the Word.
And so, I found joy in strange places. One of them was the Mike and Mike sports show on ESPN radio and television. Some time ago, one of their regular visitors shared a quote I heard previously, but it sunk deeper this time.
“A wise man counts his blessings while a fool counts his problems.”
I wrote it on the small dry erase board on our refrigerator.
It’s still there. I look at it several times a day, most every time I walk by.
I was a bitter person for a while. I think I was good at hiding it. That old straw, “don’t get bitter, get better,” only made me angry inside. “What’s the help in that?” I thought. “How do you do that?”
What I am learning is that you do it with family, friends, faith, forgiveness, and thankfulness.
More than 15 years ago, when I was newly-promoted to run an organization, a rift developed in the higher levels of the company. It was a scary time, in that I had worked so hard to get there, and now, others’ inability to work together was threatening to shove me out the door, or at least significantly alter what I had accepted as my new role. There was a tremendous amount of correspondence, some of which was a threat to my position. I kept all of those documents as reminder of what could happen, and what did happen. A decade later, one of the people involved in that fired me by voicemail when I was on vacation. The voicemail referred me to an email sent to my home.
A few weeks ago, I tossed the whole file.
It felt good.
One Sunday while we were having our own Bible study with our kids years ago, my older son was lying on the couch, not paying much attention, or so I thought. We were talking about forgiveness. This seemingly-annoyed teenager, hoodie pulled over head, back to us, appearing to ignore us, blurted into the couch cushion, almost in exasperation, “Everyone needs to love and forgive, so everyone can be loved and forgiven.”
How do you add to that?
You don’t.
This week, I am thankful for all of those who corrected me, and who supported me even in times when I didn’t see it or acknowledge it. Thanksgiving comes in many ways, but to be genuine, on its way to the mouth, it must always pass through a better, loving, and forgiving heart.