Why does life have to be like that? Why can’t it be smoother? Why can’t it just … flow like a bubbling stream returning voraciously to its source? For some, looking at their life from the outside in … it seems that it is that way. But therein is the difference, precisely because we are looking at the outside in.

I love to write fiction … I love to read fiction. I like things to be, well … perfect. I don’t think I’m a perfectionist … ahem … just a romantic. In a perfect world, life would be gloriously alive, with all dreams and aspirations realized and achieved. My own life … hardly. But I love to make it that way for others … and it only works with fictional characters, unfortunately. Thus … I love to write fiction and make every hardship evaporate in the face of undying love and devotion. And ... I only read books and watch movies with sweet, euphoric endings; happily ever after.

Now that I’ve lived a few years … and endured my share of hardship and unrealized dreams, I am finally beginning to understand what role adversity plays in our lives.

When I discover exquisite antique and heirloom tapestries and needle crafts, I do something that the experts have taught me … I closely examine the back of the fabric. It isn’t really very beautiful … the back. The strands are crossed and tucked and kinked and tied and broken. I have found tapestries and needlework that was surprisingly beautiful on the back side. The colored strands are few but neat. The lines are straight, uncrowded by neighboring silk, they are perfectly organized and worked, they are few in color and the backside resembles the front. These kinds of tapestries are junior achievers, outlines of what could be.

When you look at a truly stunning masterpiece, it looks like every stitch, every knot, every design element is … perfect; perfectly planned, perfectly executed, perfectly chosen. It is only when one examines the back, the underside where the designer never intended anyone to look, that the truth is revealed. The massive confusion of color and lines and knots serve the masterpiece, for without that framework, there is no heirloom, no beauty, no masterpiece.

A winding road chuck full of potholes and curves? It’s … hard. It’s uncomfortable and disappointing at times. But I’ll take them and I’ll endure them as best I can. And I’ll try to remember that I’m looking from the inside out. Time is our friend. Life with all its unexpected turns will hopefully reap us a life beautiful from the outside in.