His Way

The little boy stands only twenty two inches tall and is not even a year old yet. He's in the beginning stages of walking and can crawl around and pull up on objects to make himself stand. He's standing at the front of an auditorium where there are Kleenex boxes housed in bronze-like containers that are just beyond his reach. He puts his hand out and stretches as far as he can, but he has no luck reaching the object in mind. Over and over he reaches and moans, but still has no success. Finally, he slams his hand down on the little ledge, squats down to a seated position, and begins to cry in frustration. That's when his daddy notices the boy and simply walks over and puts the bronze container in his son's hand. The boy grew quiet. The tears were dry, and the little child had everything “his way.”

Isn't it interesting how the world is so much more pleasant when everything goes the way a person wants it? Every light changes as they like. Every game is won by their team. Every meal is exactly what they want to eat and how they want it cooked. There are no taxes. There are no traffic jams, and the thought of any delay in any line is totally absent from their lives. Every relationship goes in the very manner they desire, and should they decide to change at any time, there isn't an impediment in sight. Every desire is theirs without restraint, and pleasures are at their beckoning call. In fact, wouldn't the world be a much happier place if everyone everywhere got everything his or her way?

But then again, how could that be? For when two people desired the same thing, one would not be able to get his or her way, wouldn't they? How could two opposing teams each win the game? How would people entering opposite corners of an intersection be able to have the light be green for them at the same time? If a husband wanted one food and a wife wanted another food and only one was available, which one gets their way? Oh the dilemma, oh the difficulty, oh the thought of it! That someone else might get their way over the one desired is just too challenging to think about; it's too hard to manage; it's too much to ask, isn't it? Or maybe like the little tike who reaches for the bronze Kleenex box, one might learn to plop down, cry a little, and wait to take his or her turn.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?