Hindsight @ MindSay

HINDSIGHT

I dreamed of riding along in a train;

Missing my stop,

Made that trip again.

Life seemed familiar, as it was before;

Yet no, not so--

'Twas not an encore!

This time, instead of miserable me,

With twenty twenty vision,

I was able to see:

My mother and Dad, though oft not at home,

Stood there with throngs

From which a light shone;

Some of these saints, getting on board,

Seeing me there,

They praised the Lord.

A young lady sat,who'd entered in,

Said, "If not for your Dad

I'd be dead in sin.

Suicidal I was, about to O.D.,

What I needed most

He had there for me.

Thank you for sharing your father, my dear",

Said this young lady

Who sat down by me.

"My parents, friends and village had burned,

When returning home

This horror I learned.

My boyfriend, or so I had thought,

Was amorous toward me

Till his drugs I'd bought.

Fully addicted, thoroughly scorned,

I made the trip home

And then had to mourn.

I fell to the ground, my legs couldn't stand

Then, out of the smog

Your dad lent a hand.

He took hold of me, led me right to the place

Where people would help me,

And got me a place.

Checked in on me, time after time

Monitored progress

Ever so kind.

I knew then, that day, who'd looked down at me

An angel, as man

Helping me see.

Doing church work is just not the same

As the work of the church--

It's a ministering game."

She left, as the train shrieked to a halt

Left me to think

How I'd been at fault.

Giving is the way we often receive,

Fulfillment in life

Is not what we achieve.

Doing and giving, pouring yourself out,

There are more living waters

To come from the spout.

Love is multiplied only when

We spread it around

And are fishers of men.

In hindsight I see what drove Mom and Dad;

That sharing the good news

Fulfills, makes one glad.

I woke up next moring, knowing for sure,

That giving to others

Is religion that's pure.

I smiled as my bare feet hit the floor;

From that day till this

I'm ministering more.

Whether it be by gesture or deed

My hands and my life

Follow my parents' lead.

Maybe one day they'll be proud of me

For endeavoring to serve;

Their legacy.

Bonniegirl, July 2007.

Why is nothing ever as good until it's gone?

Why is it that we don't appreciate what we have until we've lost it?

People say hindsight is 20/20. But is it really? Think about it. Maybe our minds remember things differently than they actually were. Maybe we glamourize past relationships, jobs, events. Maybe we remember only what we want to remember, making it all the more difficult to forget.

Do you ever miss someone from your past? Do you ever sit there and feel such emptiness because they're no longer beside you? But if you really think about it, when they were beside you, were they really that great? Or did they just annoy you?

This is something that happens to me often. When I'm immersed in a relationship, every little thing my significant other does makes me want to kill them. But after I've had enough and decide to leave, I find myself missing them terribly. Is it simply because I'm so accustomed to their presence in my life, or do I wear rose coloured glasses when peering into the past?