I have a big but.
Not butt, although that one is substantial enough to provide me with a comfy place to sit, but but.
“That was nice, but…”
“I like it, but…”
“Good job, but…”
If I could put all the positives in my life in a wheelbarrow, I’d probably complain about it being too heavy to push around.
I might not recognize happiness if it came up and hit me in the head. But I’d feel the headache.
Why do I have such a big but?
A friend once told me, it’s what comes after the but that counts. If I say, “Thank you for fixing that, but you did it wrong,” what you’d hear is not thanks, but you failed. “We had fun, but it was too cold.” I might as well not even say it was fun. You only hear the complaint, right? The point is, watch where you put your but.
According to my friend, there are two options.
Option 1: Just say the good stuff; no buts. I love you. Great job. You’re awesome. Thank you.
Option 2: Put the good stuff after the but. Compare “I love you, but you blew it,” with “You screwed up, but I still love you.” Which would you rather hear?
Punk is good at this. He would never say, “It was a good trip, but I came home sick.” He would say exactly the opposite: “I came home sick, but that was a great trip.” And after he’s had a week or two to forget he got sick: “That was an awesome trip.”
This man has the rosiest pair of hindsight glasses. He likes my butt and tolerates my but. His wheelbarrow is full and he puts more into mine every day.
I’m blessed to have him in my life.