3-01: Roads Not Taken

Reflections on Greener Grass

I have a close friend from high school who recently had his third kid. He is happily married and lives in a single-family home with his wife, kids, and even a few dogs. I have found myself reflecting on how different our lives are, despite how similar our upbringings were. He and I grew up in the same small town and attended the same public high school. We were both good students but attended different universities. This is where our paths initially diverged.

From there, countless decisions were made, resulting in the vastly different positions we are both in today. His priorities are providing for his family, showing up for his kids, and being a good husband. The decisions about how to spend his time and energy are already largely made for him. On occasion, I find I’m envious of his clear direction and sense of purpose. Similarly, I have heard him say the opposite about my situation, regarding the freedom that I have, both with time and finances.

Meanwhile, I am thirty-two and single with no children or dogs of my own. I have the freedom to book a flight to see a friend on a whim. I can go to nicer restaurants because it is just me and maybe a date. I can splurge on a first-class seat because there is only one ticket to buy. From the outside and from a certain perspective, my life looks pretty good to him, in the same mirrored kind of way that his life looks pretty good to me.

We are both climbing the same mountain, thinking the other is closer to the top than they really are. This tendency to view another’s situation with any semblance of desire often discounts what it took to get there and the responsibilities and daily costs of what it takes to have that opposite life. Both of our lives have their own trade-offs which are hard to see from where we stand. The grass on the other side is most often a different shade of green, complete with its own unique set of weeds.

I sometimes wish that I could buy a plot of land and build a swing set for the kids I am yet to have. As nice as this sounds, only God knows if there will be a kid for each swing. This is where the strange tension is present. Some things can be built before they are needed, but most things in life, whether physical or relational, should be assembled when the time is right. A house can be bought and a swing set built, but the family that plays on it cannot be assembled in a weekend. Until that season comes into my life, the best I can do is to build myself into the man I want to be to support that life.

For now, looking ahead to these times with inspiration, hope, and wonder is all that I can ask for. I am standing beside a busy street waiting patiently for the crosswalk to turn. I look down to appreciate the corner that I am standing on, while knowing well that, in time, I will be on the other side. I remind myself that every life contains something that another life is missing, and that we should each be grateful for what we have.