THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS A WHITE PICKET FENCE.
Sure you might see them.
But they’re not real. It’s an illusion. A mirage. A dream.
Remember those days in our youth? We had high hopes and beautiful dreams for our future. A fairytale marriage with a splash of well-behaved children all nestled together in that big beautiful house on Drury Lane next to the muffin man (serving fresh blueberry muffins every morning) surrounded by a perfect white picket fence.
WHAT HAPPENED?
Life. A mess. And growth.
Hard times, unexpected detours, and unrealistic goals knocked us down. We had to stand up, gather our tools, and fix that fence. That fixing took some hard work, sweat, and lots of tears.
Oh there’s a couple sections of white fence in my life, but there’s also several broken sections that are cracked and worn down from constant and ongoing repairs. And of course there are those sections of barb wired fencing that are painful if not handled correctly and need extra attention. That conglomerate mess of fencing represents . . . well me.
As I ponder my life, I recognize where I’ve been, where I am now, and who I’m becoming. It’s a fence-mending work in progress that’s eternal. The wrinkles on my face and calluses on my hands testify of LESSONS learned, hard-earned WISDOM, and old fashioned GRIT.
After walking around the block more than once, I’m finally seeing the big picture. I can honestly stand back and make the following declaration:
I LIKE MY FENCE BETTER.