What I Focus On Gets Stronger

My father was born in a dugout with a dirt floor, the eighth of twelve children. Once I tried to get my grandmother to talk about her experience in that dugout. I said, “It must have been very hard.” She looked at me as if I weren’t very smart. Then she said, “It wasn’t hard at all. We had the most wonderful neighbors.” Then she started naming the neighbors and how she appreciated each one.

Grandmother was teaching me one of life’s most important lessons: What I focus on gets stronger.

You write it: How did you learn this lesson? Or have you?