A Walking Construction Zone

Earlier today, I was driving around in my rural area marveling at the amount of local construction. Well, marveling isn’t the right word, at least not initially. I was grumbling. Bitching and moaning, even. I was feeling downright irritable about the audacity of the Department of Transportation. Someone really must have pissed them off, and by golly, isn’t this a royal pain in the you-know-what.

Then, in a lovely turn of events, it occurred to me that when all these work sites are done and cleared out and cleaned up, our local infrastructure will probably look better, feel better, and be safer. And the real kicker is that I realized that each time I feel a bit broken or dysfunctional is probably when Good is working on me in my life, but the end result will probably also look better, feel better, and be safer for me, too. It’s actually kind of a privilege to have Good working on me to make my life better in the long run.

This saccharine sentiment almost made me throw up all over myself in my car (a common theme in my writing lately), but it also felt incredibly good. The sheer fact that I came up with such positive hooey in the first place had me grinning from ear-to-ear and I just had to share it.

You’re welcome.

And… I saw that massive eye roll. You’ll join me in faith one of these days, you relentless cynic.