Things are often not what they seem. It may also be true that things are not often what they seem.

I am learning this slowly, but I am learning.

As I was thinking about the people in my life who seem to consider these truths the most in their daily lives, the very first person I thought of was my dad.

In fact, now that I think of it, these “truths” arose as I was talking to my dad this morning.

He was withholding judgment about someone or something, as he usually does, and I began to marvel at how he has been demonstrating this over and over to me in my life.

More than once growing up, my dad took a royal screwing from other people in our community who took advantage of their business dealings, acted unethically, and were not true to their word.

And I remember always feeling that my dad was not nearly hard enough on them. I was full of vindictive judgment.

He approached the matters with much more tentativeness.

What I often mistook as passivity, I now am beginning to see was a deeper wisdom that comes out of a heart and mind that do not rush to judgment, that recognize the effects of place/time/history on perspective, and take into account the limitations of any perspective at any given time.

During this morning’s conversation, Dad was referencing something that actually seems to be going fairly poorly. From my perspective, it doesn’t look good.

His response this morning, as it so often is, was “It will be good. It will all work out.”

In the short game, not everything turns out good and not everything works out.

At least, not from my limited perspective.

But, more and more as I age and deepen my relationship with my dad, I see that he is not just considering the short-term and he is also not denying reality, as I have thought at times in the past.

He is truly and wholeheartedly convinced that it is good, that it will be good, and that it will all work out.

I think we call this “faith” and “trust”.

And his faith and trust allow him to realize - more than most - that things are often not what they seem.

Faith and trust seem to act as buffers against immediate, tunnel-focused, short-term judgment.

Today, I got activated about a certain situation and said words about someone that I instantly regretted. I felt my heart close as I said them. I felt a pang of separation and suffering within me.

I was operating under the auspice that things are exactly the way that I see them and this person is wrong because he is doing this and saying that and…and…and…and.

Even as I was saying what I was saying, I could feel doubt and exceptions and curiosity wanting to arise, to give me pause, to consider the other side, to consider that I am not seeing things the way they might actually be, to realize that I am most definitely only seeing part of the story, part of the person, part of the situation.

I apologized to my family for my words, but I feel the lingering poison. I grieved my spirit with those words. In a way, I shut another human out of my heart for a bit.

There is a reason that more than one sage of old has taught us to stay away from judgment, to withhold judgment, to approach judgment with humility, to ultimately know that we are incapable of an unbiased judgment or one that takes into account all the facets of the subject.

Things are often not what they seem.

And this is good news.

They point us to that which is beyond us, to mystery, to faith, and to trust.

My dad has been quietly teaching me this for most of my life.

I am beginning to see.

But only partly, dimly.

For now.

Peace