By Sandra Bost
This has been a fun couple of weeks. Summer officially started last Monday, giving me more time with our grandbabies in Alabama. We were outside when the kids spotted a great egret wading in the overflow from the nearby pond, thanks to all the recent rain. We rushed inside to change into our mud shoes, but by the time we got back out, the bird had flown away. We decided to adventure in the marsh anyway. Marching around up to our ankles in the warm, grassy water, we looked for treasures and splashed in the deep spots. “Little” even grabbed a long blade of grass and cast it into a hole to try and catch a fish (no luck!).
It was beautiful to watch the three of them frolic in God’s splash pad, proclaiming it “The Best Day EVER!” No toys, no money—just grass, mud, and pure joy. It was good for the soul, and it wasn’t long before I was sitting right there in the muddy water with them, being splashed by three of my favorite humans.
This Tuesday was another magical day with them. We were prepping some land in a pine forest for a project we are working on, and our daughter came to help. Upon arrival, the happy favorites ran toward us with all the excitement they could muster. However, their joy was short-lived in the humid forest with itchy things all around.
I grew up with woods like these in my backyard, so I was disappointed that the babies did not immediately feel the magic. In fact, it had the opposite effect as they morphed into whiney minions instead of a gang of wilderness explorers. I could tell their mommy was minutes from loading back up and taking it to the house. She gave them a choice, and they were all ready to go home.
Determined to make them fall in love with the forest, I scanned the ground for a long log that I could set as the first wall of a fort. We were only three walls in when the magic kicked in. With their imaginations unlocked, it wasn’t long before we had a proper wilderness fort with a door, a roof, and a fireplace! Their attitudes shifted within minutes. They went from begging to go home—whiney, hot, and thirsty—to working together to create a home and asking if they could live in it forever!
“Big” even made the comment that the time had gone by so fast once they started building something. It was a great lesson in how quickly our environment can change when we shift our focus.
One minute, the forest was a hot, miserable prison of bugs and boredom. Next, it was a kingdom of adventure. Nothing about the actual physical circumstances changed. The temperature didn’t drop, the mosquitoes didn’t magically vanish, and their cups were not suddenly filled with ice-cold lemonade. The only thing that changed was what they were choosing to look at. They taught their minds to stop looking at what was making them uncomfortable and start looking for the next log to build their fort.
We do the exact same thing as adults, don’t we? It’s so easy to let the “heat and thirst” of daily life turn us into whiney minions. We get stuck in traffic, face unexpected bills, or get overwhelmed by a never-ending to-do list, and suddenly our internal narrative becomes a laundry list of complaints. We look for escape, and sometimes we want to throw in the towel. We become blind to the beauty all around us because we get caught up in our own stinking thinking.
Neuroscience actually backs this up. Human brains cannot effectively process deep anxiety and deep gratitude at the exact same time because they rely on mutually exclusive neural pathways. Studies show that practicing gratitude helps our brains physically switch from a stress response to a state of calm, safety, and emotional regulation (Gemini).
The apostle Paul understood this human tendency perfectly. Writing from a literal prison cell—a place far more restrictive and uncomfortable than our hot forest—he didn’t spend his letters complaining about the chains or the guard shifts. Instead, he gave the early church a masterclass in shifting their perspective.
In Philippians 4:8, he writes: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, lovely, or admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things (NIV).” Paul wasn’t suggesting a fake form of toxic positivity or ignoring reality. He knew the world had hardships, but he understood a fundamental spiritual truth: what we choose to dwell on determines our posture toward life.
When we shift our focus from what we lack to what we have been given, the magic kicks in. The wilderness stops looking like a miserable prison and starts looking like a place where God is actively building something beautiful.
This week, I pray we can see the beautiful. When we are tempted to complain about what we lack, may we find something noble, pure, or lovely, and build a fort of praise. He is so worthy.
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