The Seat that Taught Me a Lesson

It was supposed to be a day of celebration. A good portion of the family had gathered for a special ceremony, and we were all there to honor one of our own. It was a beautiful event, filled with well-deserved recognition and heartfelt words. And I’m genuinely glad we went. But as I think back on the day, a moment of deep frustration comes to mind—a moment I handled very poorly.

The truth is, I arrived ready to celebrate, but I also carried the weight of a familiar feeling. We found our way to the venue, looking for the rest of our family, and that’s when we hit the snag. The seating was such that our family—my husband, me, and our kids—couldn’t sit with everyone else. We were split off, on the other side of the aisle.

In the grand scheme of things, I know it seems like a small thing. Just chairs. Just a few feet of distance. But in that moment, it felt like something bigger. It felt like another example of our little unit being the one that gets left out when everyone gathers. I know it wasn’t intentional, but it’s a pattern that hurts. My mind, in its aggravated state, was quick to latch onto a familiar narrative: We’re always the ones on the outside looking in.

It’s dumb, I know. The ceremony was a beautiful testament to someone’s hard work and dedication. The person being honored deserved every moment of that spotlight. And yet, my frustration got the best of me. Instead of rising above it, I leaned into it. I acted with insolence. I was a snot, allowing my feelings to overshadow the joy of the occasion. It was a moment of immaturity that I am not proud of.

The entire event was a testament to love, service, and sacrifice, yet I let a trivial annoyance get in the way of my own grace. I am happy we were there to support our family member, and I am glad the ceremony was a success. But I regret how I handled my initial frustration. It was a powerful lesson in remembering what truly matters and not letting small moments of irritation distract from the bigger picture.

It’s a reminder that even when things feel unfair, our reactions are always our own responsibility. Moving forward, I want to choose to be present and grateful, to focus on the love and connection that brought us all together in the first place—even if we have to sit a little further apart.