Hubby and I were cruising down the highway singing oldies but goodies tunes to our hearts’ content, when suddenly hubby said, “When I was in my hey day I thought if only I had $100,000 I’d have it made in the shade.” I told him I thought the same thing (only I wanted a Mercedes convertible and a full length mink coat to have it “made in the shade”). We had a bad case of “if only” in our earlier years.
This condition starts early. “If only” I was pretty, or thin, or had no acne, or was older. Once I thought my nose was too wide, so I went to bed with a clothespin on my nose, only to rip it off within a few seconds (that’s when I decided sometimes the price of vanity is too painful for it to be worth it).
The mysterious “if only” condition seems to escalate with responsibility. “If only” I get accepted in a certain school, or had a certain car, or had a larger house, or made more money so I could get all my “wants” met (notice I didn’t say “needs”). This list can go on and on.
At some point in life the “if only” condition seems to subside. The glitter of “things” doesn’t mean as much, or maybe it’s when you reach a certain age you realize how much work it takes to make “enough.” You get tired.
In retirement I look back to the years of when I said “if only” umpteen gillion times and each time I’m glad I didn’t get that $100,000 or Mercedes convertible or mink coat, because if I had I probably wouldn’t be appreciating the breeze blowing in the grass, or the cows mooing in chorus, or the horse kicking up his heels. Thank you, God, for not granting my “if only’s.”
Hebrews 13:5 “Make sure that your character is free from the love of money, being content with what you have; for He Himself has said, “I will never desert you, nor will I ever forsake you,”