One of my favorite books as a child was Eleanor H. Porter's Pollyanna. I read the book several times and enjoyed the movie over and over. This part always jumped out at me:
"You don't seem ter see any trouble bein' glad about everythin'," retorted Nancy, choking a little over her remembrance of Pollyanna's brave attempts to like the bare little attic room.
Pollyanna laughed softly.
"Well, that's the game, you know, anyway."
"The--game?"
"Yes; the 'just being glad' game."
"Whatever in the world are you talkin' about?"
"Why, it's a game. Father told it to me, and it's lovely," rejoined Pollyanna. "We've played it always, ever since I was a little, little girl. I told the Ladies' Aid, and they played it--some of them."
"What is it? I ain't much on games, though."
Pollyanna laughed again, but she sighed, too; and in the gathering twilight her face looked thin and wistful.
"Why, we began it on some crutches that came in a missionary barrel."
"Crutches!"
"Yes. You see I'd wanted a doll, and father had written them so; but when the barrel came the lady wrote that there hadn't any dolls come in, but the little crutches had. So she sent 'em along as they might come in handy for some child, sometime. And that's when we began it."
"Well, I must say I can't see any game about that, about that," declared Nancy, almost irritably.
"Oh, yes; the game was to just find something about everything to be glad about--no matter what 'twas," rejoined Pollyanna, earnestly. "And we began right then--on the crutches."
"Well, goodness me! I can't see anythin' ter be glad about--gettin' a pair of crutches when you wanted a doll!"
Pollyanna clapped her hands.
"There is--there is," she crowed. "But I couldn't see it, either, Nancy, at first," she added, with quick honesty. "Father had to tell it to me."
"Well, then, suppose you tell me," almost snapped Nancy.
"Goosey! Why, just be glad because you don't--need--'em!" exulted Pollyanna, triumphantly. "You see it's just as easy--when you know how!"
"Well, of all the queer doin's!" breathed Nancy, regarding Pollyanna with almost fearful eyes.
"Oh, but it isn't queer--it's lovely," maintained Pollyanna enthusiastically. "And we've played it ever since. And the harder 'tis, the more fun 'tis to get 'em out; only--only sometimes it's almost too hard--like when your father goes to Heaven, and there isn't anybody but a Ladies' Aid left."
"Yes, or when you're put in a snippy little room 'way at the top of the house with nothin' in it," growled Nancy.
Pollyanna sighed.
"That was a hard one, at first," she admitted, "specially when I was so kind of lonesome. I just didn't feel like playing the game, anyway, and I had been wanting pretty things, so! Then I happened to think how I hated to see my freckles in the looking-glass, and I saw that lovely picture out the window, too; so then I knew I'd found the things to be glad about. You see, when you're hunting for the glad things, you sort of forget the other kind--like the doll you wanted, you know."
"Humph!" choked Nancy, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.....
Fifteen minutes later, in the attic room, a lonely little girl sobbed into the tightly-clutched sheet:
"I know, father-among-the-angels, I'm not playing the game one bit now--not one bit; but I don't believe even you could find anything to be glad about sleeping all alone 'way off up here in the dark--like this. If only I was near Nancy or Aunt Polly, or even a Ladies' Aider, it would be easier!"
Down-stairs in the kitchen, Nancy, hurrying with her belated work, jabbed her dish-mop into the milk pitcher, and muttered jerkily:
"If playin' a silly-fool game--about bein' glad you've got crutches when you want dolls--is got ter be--my way--o' bein' that rock o' refuge--why, I'm a-goin' ter play it--I am, I am!"
--Eleanor H. Porter, Pollyanna, Chapter V
God and I have been playing a version of Pollyanna's game, lately, except for me it's not a game. It's a mindset. Pollyanna's goal was to find something to be glad about in every situation. My goal is to find something that I can thank God for in every situation.
Every good thing in my life is a gift from God to me. Even the clouds have their silver linings, because God works even in struggles and hurts and hard times. I want to learn to find the silver linings. I won't always be glad about everything, but God has said to "give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God..." And I've found in my own life that thankfulness leads to joy, which is deeper than fleeting happiness. I only wish I remembered that more often...
The other day, we were playing volleyball in PE class. I got in ready position as the ball came whizzing over the net, fueled by a hard, fast serve. I bounced it right back over the net, scoring a point. My team was elated. It was our first point, and I must say it was rather impressive. However, the glory was short-lived. On our next turn, I again readied myself as the ball came whizzing over the net, fueled by another vigorous and powerful serve. Unfortunately, I miscalculated the ball's aim.
And I missed hitting the ball. Instead, the ball hit me. In the jaw. Really hard. The coach blew the whistle and asked me if I was okay. I said I didn't know. My face was numb. They made me sit down and brought me some ice. And so I sat there during the last few minutes of our game with the icepack on my face, quivering slightly from the sudden bolt of adrenaline coursing through my body, and I was thankful.
I kid you not. It was definitely a God thing. Believe me, I am not capable of turning on thankfulness like a lightbulb. I'm most definitely human. But God opened my eyes to see so many reasons for thankfulness! I was thankful that the ball didn't break my nose. I was thankful that I got hit and not one of the younger girls on our team--I had switched positions with her. She probably would have been really shaken up. I was thankful that God gave me a jaw to protect my teeth. I was thankful that my mouth was closed and I didn't inadvertently take a bite out of my tongue when the ball hit. I was thankful for God's protection and His presence.
I was thankful the next day, too. Thankful that I wasn't the least bit sore and I didn't have the faintest bruise. Thankful that there were no hard feelings between me and the girl whose serve whacked me. Thankful for the things God has been teaching me about thankfulness (more on that here).
And so the volleyball episode has been recorded as one small victory. A baby step on the incredible journey of following Jesus. I'm asking Him, now, to show me the little blessings and the silver linings every day.
No comments:
Post a Comment