A Bag of Tools

Isn't it strange how princes and kings,
and clowns that caper in sawdust rings,
and common people, like you and me,
are builders for eternity?

Each is given a list of rules;
a shapeless mass; a bag of tools.
And each must fashion, ere life is flown,
A stumbling block, or a Stepping-Stone.

by R. Lee Sharpe

I first read this poem when we liven in Provo many years ago. I found it in a binder in my Dad's office that turned out to be a school project that he had made many years before. It was a binder full of poems and the very first one was A Bag of Tools. I read it several times that day and put it back in the bookshelf. As the years passed I often thought of the poems last line and tried to think of the obstacles in my life as an opportunity to grow, a chance to climb one step closer to my end goal.

A couple of days ago I was trying to re-arrange my room (Dad's office that I am currently living in) to give myself a little more room and I came across the same binder. I opened it up to the first poem and read the words again. This morning as I got up and put yesterday behind me, because believe me it was a very bad day, I realized that the hurt and pain we feel when we loose someone or they hurt us is inevitable, but the circumstances themselves are open for interpretation. I can't control the pain I feel or the loss of the relationship but I can choose to use this experience as a stepping stone. So I got dressed, ate some cereal, made some brownies to thank someone for being so kind to me and embraced the ache in my heart a little more than yesterday.