Pencils, Batters, Sewing, Music and Typing?

It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m thankful for do-overs. Something about second chances fills me with hope.

Eraser (Photo credit: plounsbury)

All kinds of second-time-around opportunities surround us that we might not even see as do-overs.

A batter taking a swing gets at least three chances, more if a couple swings send foul balls flying.
Pencils are built for second chances. An eraser on top implies that mistakes happen and rewriting occurs. That’s not a weakness in the pencil design, it’s a recognition that we humans inevitably goof.
Sewing tools include seam rippers that help you take stitches out when something has gone wrong. Tiny snippets of thread undo a bit at a time until the entire length of stitching is removed. It’s then ready for another go at the needle.
Practicing piano, or violin, trombone, drums, flute, guitar or any musical instrument serves as many second chances to get it right before a performance.
The delete button on my keyboard makes do-overs easy and quick. When I first learned to type the second chance required back spacing then messy white-out followed by drying time, then a retype.

Repairs Ahead

Second chances abound. They serve as reminders that I am a work in progress and so is everyone around me.

My daily do-over starts with the beginning of another day where I have a new chance to get something right today that I made a mess of yesterday. Maybe that’s another reason I like mornings so much.

Second’s the Best

Remarriage after a divorce is a blessed do-over. I don’t know the stats but logically you’d think that things would go better in that new relationship because of lessons learned the first time around. Not to mention, there’s that appreciation factor, having lost something, then found it again, you cherish it more, care for it more, keep an eye on it better.

My son ties the knot later this week. This second chance at marriage bubbles over with joy and promise and so many good things. I want to dance across the park, shout over the tree tops, run like a banshee and sing at the top of my lungs. Don’t worry, I’ll remain dignified and just smile as the happy tears run down my face.

Ah, the blessedness of a second chance.

Pencils ready?