Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital
room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day to drain the
fluids from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other
man had to spend all his time flat on his back.
The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives
and families, their homes, their jobs,
their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And
every afternoon when the man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he
would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see
outside the window.
The man in the other bed would live for those one-hour
periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and
color of the outside world. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake,
the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed
their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid flowers of every color of the
rainbow. Growed trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline
could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite
detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine
the picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade
passing by. Although the other man could
not hear the band, he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the
window portrayed it with descriptive words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought
entered his head: Why should behave all the pleasure of seeing everything while
I never get to see anything? It didn't seem fair. As the thought fermented, the
man felt ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more
sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He began to brood and found himself unable to
sleep. He should be by that window - and that thought now controlled his life.
Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by
the window began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other
man watched in the dimly lit room as
the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help.
Listening from across the room, he never moved, never pushed his own button
which would have brought the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the
coughing and choking stopped, along with the sound of breathing. Now, there was
only silence--deathly silence.
The following morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water
for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she
was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take it away--no words, no
fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if he could be moved next
to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch and after making sure he
was comfortable, she left him alone.
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to
take his first look. Finally, he would
have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out
the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.
The pursuit of happiness is a matter of choice ... it is a
positive attitude we consciously choose to express. It is not a gift that gets
delivered to our doorstep each morning, nor does it come through the window.
And I am certain that our circumstances are just a small part of what makes us
joyful. If we wait for them to get just right, we will never find lasting joy.
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