What an interesting choice of words.
Fault lines. It is as if whomever was tracking potential shifts in the landscape wanted to be sure who to blame. We lived along the San Andreas fault for a dozen years. There were a few shakers but we were not cataclysmic losers. It disrupted life as we knew it for a few days but the only thing that actually shattered was the current science experiment. Sugar crystals crashed all over the kitchen. Friends in Northridge were not so lucky.
The other day I mentioned to a friend that my preschool job ended, and I was grieving the loss. She muttered that she wished her job was over but recent developments in the foundation of her house prompted her to ask for more hours, not fewer. Although she does not currently live near an earthquake zone, the stability of her 116 year old house is in question.
In that one sentence I felt a continental shift. I could complain. Or I could be grateful that I enjoyed my time with four year olds for six years, and that I now can explore other ways of serving. No need to hurl blame.
Another time I was blabbing with a friend about the rascally behavior of my teenagers. I rambled for awhile before she had a chance to speak.
"We couldn't have children." Her words were muted, as if they were buried deep within the soil of her heart.
How could I have been so egocentric? I mumbled an apology and picked up my discontent like a broken dish.
I am a slow learner, but the other day it occurred to me to look around before I whined about my son, or my marriage, my house or my health. In the group was a woman suffering from diverticulitis, and a man whose wife died eight years ago. There was a couple whose daughter's marriage was crumbling and a woman struggling to pay her mortgage. In a moment my perspective altered, like an aftershock. The rumbling beneath my feet jolted me into a different stance.
