By Michelle Taylor

One day, an old man spent all his savings to buy a young and beautiful horse. But that same day, the horse jumped the fence and ran off into the hills. The neighbors came by to express their sympathy: “Oh, that’s too bad. How are you going to work the fields now?”
The farmer simply replied, “Good thing? Bad thing? Who knows?”

A few days later, the horse returned—bringing eight strong, wild horses with it. The neighbors were amazed. “Oh, how lucky! Now you can do even more work than before!”
Again, the farmer said, “Good thing? Bad thing? Who knows?”

The very next day, the farmer’s son was thrown from one of the new horses and broke his leg. “Such misfortune,” the neighbors said. The injury healed poorly, leaving the boy with a limp and chronic pain. “Now that he can’t help you around the farm, that’s really unfortunate.”
The farmer responded, “Good thing? Bad thing? Who knows?”

Soon after, war broke out. All the able-bodied young men were drafted. The villagers were devastated, knowing many of their sons wouldn’t return. But the farmer’s son, due to his injury, was not drafted. “How lucky you are!” the neighbors exclaimed. “You get to keep your only son!”
The farmer said once more, “Good thing? Bad thing? Who knows?”

And the story goes on…
(Old Chinese Proverb as told by DK Matai, mi2g, source)

This proverb is one of my favorites for explaining the Law of Relativity, which teaches us that nothing we experience is inherently good or bad—it just is. The meaning we assign to it is entirely up to us.

In February, my husband and I were in a car accident with two of our children. It wasn’t our fault, and thankfully, none of us suffered more than some whiplash—something a good chiropractor could handle. As I held my children, I tried to stay calm and grounded, trusting that we were safe and that everything would be okay. It would’ve been easy to panic—and I admit, I had a moment—but I knew my little ones needed reassurance.

We were on our way to watch our daughters perform in an all-state choir, and because of the accident, we missed their performance. We also couldn’t pick them up like we’d promised. On top of that, we were several hours from home, and I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to get back the next day as planned. Still, I knew I had to be a calming presence for the little ones in my arms.

When the police and ambulance arrived, my husband assessed the vehicle. While the trunk was badly damaged, the car itself was drivable. We would need to pay out of pocket for a hotel and towing if needed, but we chose to stay focused on the positive: we weren’t seriously injured, and we were being protected.

We found a hotel, got some rest, and made it home the next day. Our daughters ended up getting a ride home with their choir instructor, arriving just a few hours after us. In the end, everything worked out.

There’s a real benefit to choosing to see things in a positive light.

The vehicle we were driving was our only reliable car. There was a delay in tracking down the original driver who hit the car that then hit us, and I had to leave town for a meeting. But because I stayed grounded in trust and gratitude, I felt prompted to call the insurance company of the car that hit us—and they had exactly the information I needed. I was able to secure a rental and make it to my meeting.

Ultimately, the car was totaled. But between that and the pain-and-suffering compensation, we had enough to sustain ourselves financially during the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic—when income was uncertain. That money even allowed us to plant a garden, something that gave us peace of mind and a practical way to feed our family if times got harder.

Through it all, we kept choosing trust. We believed that things were unfolding as they should. And because of that, we were more open to the answers and guidance we needed when they came.

Good thing? Bad thing? Who knows. But when you trust the process, you're far more likely to see the good.