It was mid-summer, and I was pulling weeds in the back garden. Birds were singing crazily in the air, and a warm breeze was blowing through the trees. As I walked into the screened porch, I could hear a nest of baby birds chirping in an opening under the eaves.

The next day, Craig and I were still working out in the yard. Coming into the house for lunch, he mentioned that there was a nest just outside the porch beside the door. “And you know, I haven’t seen the mama bird. Have you?”

“No,” I reluctantly answered and sighed.

I hauled the ladder out of the garage and propped it against the side of the house. I crawled up and peeked into the space. One little baby lifted its wobbly, fuzzy head. The other lay lifeless.

I was cleaning out the fish aquarium. It was an ordinary day. I needed to siphon the water across the kitchen to the sink. It took the entire afternoon to drain the tank, scrub it out, and set it back up again. While cleaning, I watched my boys play in the backyard. They were running and playing. They were at the side of the house playing on the swing set a while later. I looked out my bedroom window and saw them swinging and laughing together. I finished in the bathroom and walked through the house.

It was really hard when I was trying to get pregnant and was unsuccessful. It seemed like everyone was having babies… except me.

Looking back on this time from the distance of 20 years is illuminating. I currently have three adopted children who are 20, 19, and 14. But back in the day, it wasn’t easy.

We decided to start trying to have kids when I was 27. But it didn’t “just happen.” Infertility and adoption work followed.

Laughter plus fun equals happiness…

When have I laughed the most? Kids laugh all the time. As a first-grade teacher, it was hard to rein in their laughter. It bubbled up during reading time, music class, and recess. As a teacher, I had to hold their laughter to a minimum, which was a hard job. Sadly, it wasn’t difficult by the end of my career.

But back to me and happiness… The first thing that comes to mind is my trip to Ireland with my sister Michelle. We purposefully rented a small manual transmission car for our adventure. Both of us wanted to drive on the “wrong” side of the road, so we paid extra insurance to both be able to drive. Laughing all the way, we drove along the highways and byways. Sitting at intersections, we would repeat the mantra “turn left, stay left,” or “turn right, stay left” over and over. Each time, it became funnier. We drove with the windows down and marveled at the beautiful old homes by the road’s edge. We slowed down to talk to roaming cows. When we got lost, we both got out of the car and calmly enjoyed the rural scenery while waiting for someone–anyone–to rescue us. Someone actually drove up the same road and stopped to ask if we needed help. We said we were lost, and they told us how to get to our B&B by a back road.

Growing up, our house was across the street from the Grand View Motel. We lived on the street behind and our home faced the 10 or so windows of the long, low building. Once a week, the owner would mow the grass and sometimes have his young son, Johnny, with him in the cab of the riding lawn tractor.

Mom asked me if I wanted to take Johnny to the “Welcome to Kindergarten” day. ( It was held on a day late in the spring semester when neighborhood Kinders would “sponsor” a child who would be entering kindergarten the following year.) “No way,” was the only explanation I gave when she asked me if I was interested in taking Johnny. But there was a reason that I didn’t want to be his special friend…

“Time heals all wounds”…I’ve given some thought to this famous quote and decided that it is a harmful “old wives” tale.

My perspective is based on personal experience. Having lived more than a half-century. I have a wealth of experiences under my belt that have harmed, hurt, or negatively influenced me in one way or another. 

What I can say for time, with regard to healing emotional pain is that it serves two purposes. but falls short in one major way…

I can choose to be happy. 

It all started when I was a child. Every Saturday, Michelle and I would do our housekeeping chores. But we would have additional cleaning responsibilities if we were having guests or before holidays. During those times, mom would be present and I remember these times well. 

She would explain the importance and urgency of the chores. I think my sister and I were low on the continuum of “buy-in”. Then to encourage us, before turning us loose, Mom would always, always say, “Alright girls, let’s get this house cleaned up…and let’s have fun!”

I don’t think this actually worked in my child’s mind, but it has affected me deeply in adulthood.

You see, I know I get to choose my happiness–or not. It all depends on the thoughts I purposefully think.

Let me explain.