I spent a lot of time with my Grandpa Brown (a.k.a - Grandpa Next-door because he lived in the house next-door to us while I was growing up in south Provo). I worked a lot of hours with him on the family farm, around the house, or up at the family's cabin. He was a very quiet man. He had a beautiful voice, but would only sing when he was in his shop "toolin" around - I don't ever remember hearing him sing the hymns at church, not sure why. I loved sitting outside his shop listening to him sing. He didn't say much, but when he did it was profound to me. He taught me a lot of valuable lessons that I have not nor will I ever forget. He is just as much a part of me as I hope I am a part of him.
As he grew older, and especial after Grandma passed away, Grandpa spent a lot of time on his front porch swing. He would just rock back and forth humming some tune. He was always staring across the street. I never saw him looking down to the ground like he was discouraged or depressed. I never saw him staring up into the sky like he was cursing God for his loneliness. Nope, he just stared across the street, gassing at the old steel factory behind the power poles that lined his front yard.
For many of us when we look back at the past we tend to focus on the negative things that we did or the things left undone that should have been done. Like I said, perspective is an interest word - one that is easier discussed than applied. Where will you place your perspective? On the ugly foundries and power poles of the present? Or the beautiful mountains on the horizon?
From the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, "What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."
I firmly believe that while Grandpa sat on his swing, he never once noticed the foundry or the power poles.
